An Arranged Marriage
by vanityfair
Summary: Epilogue now added! “Just because a marriage is not a love match does not mean it is loveless consideration turns to respect, respect turns to admiration, and admiration turns to love.” HGSS
1. one

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

This is my first foray into fan fiction and so any constructive criticism will be appreciated. This story is based loosely on the marriage law challenge and I hope that I have been able to contribute something new and interesting. Enjoy!

**Chapter One**

Hermione sat, staring out at the lake. A copy of the Daily Prophet lay at her feet where she had dropped it covered by a letter from the Ministry. Both her heart and mind were in turmoil. 'Pick your battles,' her father had always told her. So did she fight this ridiculous marriage law? Or did she sacrifice her happiness for the greater good, focusing on the war against Lord Voldemort instead? Or was fighting this law just another battle in the larger war? Or worse yet, was it enough for her to relinquish her wand and return to the Muggle world? She had values, hopes, and dreams, and this new law would force her to choose between them.

Confused, she reached for her bag. With quill and parchment in hand she began compiling pros and cons list for every available option. She resolved to solve this problem with logic and planning. It was like any other obstacle she had faced in the past, similar to Snape's puzzle protecting the Philosopher's Stone in her first year or how she had outwitted Umbridge in her fifth.

That was the way Professor Dumbledore found her, bent over her parchment, trying to keep it from being blown away in the wind.

"Miss Granger," he said softly, "May I join you." She nodded and scooted to the far end of the bench.

"I rather thought you would have left by now. School is over; you are no longer a student at Hogwarts." He regarded her over his half moon glasses.

"I'm leaving at the end of week. Professor McGonagall asked me to stay and help her organize some things for next year," she answered, "But surely you knew that already, Professor?"

"Ah, yes, I do remember Minerva mentioning it now." His eyes twinkled. Hermione knew full well that he was aware of why she was still here at school. She ventured to guess he knew why she was out here on this bench scribbling away as well.

"Under different circumstances she said she would have offered me an apprenticeship, but with things the way they are," Hermione's voice cracked at that—the first sign of emotional distress she had shown so far.

"A bright witch like you should continue her education," Dumbledore said, "I'm sure we can arrange something." He patted her arm reassuringly, but Hermione did not feel reassured. She looked at the aged wizard sitting beside her. He looked as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and not for the first time she wondered how so frail a man could be so powerful. Harry had assured her in the past that he was quite intimidating when angry, but she hardly believed him.

"But, Professor, I don't know if we can," she said shoving her exhaustive lists into his hands. He shuffled through them, chuckling to himself.

"Always determined to solve every problem with your intellect—an admirable approach." He handed the stack back to her and she stuffed them into her bag along with the newspaper and Ministry letter.

"So you've come to no conclusion yet?" he asked.

"No," she sighed, turning her head so he wouldn't see the tears pricking her eyes.

"What are your options?"

"I can go along with this ridiculous law and pick an eligible Pureblood bachelor for myself from this bloody list the Ministry sent or...," she paused, contemplating the horrors of an arranged marriage.

"You must remember that the wizards on that list are in the same situation you are. They, too, are being forced to marry."

"Yes, but they get to choose who they will propose to! My list is much shorter than theirs," she exclaimed.

"Some muggleborn witches don't have nearly the extensive list of choices you have, Hermione," Dumbledore reminded her gently. She thought it over, pitying the poor women who had no choices at all.

"So the Ministry can force Muggleborns and Purebloods to marry simply because people like the Malfoys and the Blacks are so concerned about purity that they are in the process of interbreeding themselves into extinction?" Her voice grew shriller as she went on, and her wand hand twitched as the urge to hex and curse the Ministry of Magic into oblivion overcame her.

"I'm afraid so," he said looking at her sadly.

"And there is nothing you can do?" she pleaded even though she knew in her heart what the answer was.

"The Minister has convinced himself that what he is doing is for the best—that he is single handedly saving the Wizarding world. And when a man's ego is that large, his pride oftentimes prevents him from hearing reason."

"Even from you?"

"Especially from me, but what are your other options?" he asked again.

"I could fight the law, risking fines, censure, and imprisonment. I would be almost useless to the Order and take the chance of not being there for Harry when he might need me the most. Or I can leave, abandoning Harry, Ron, the Order, everyone and everything I have come to love these last seven years," she said, despair welling up in her.

Dumbledore scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She buried her head in his chest and beard, sniffling. He smelled like a summer's day after it has rained and she felt herself calming down as he pat her head. After several moments she sat back up. Smoothing her robes, she stared back out at the lake.

"I have to be there for Harry," she said finally. "We're friends. I could never abandon him like that."

"That only leaves one option," Dumbledore pointed out.

"_I know_," she whispered, her eyes downcast while she fiddled with the pocket of her school robes.

"I always pictured myself falling in love with an honorable man, someone who enjoyed the same things I do. We would have children, one or two, and we would grow old together. I want a marriage like my parents have," she said pleadingly.

"Just because a marriage is not a love match does not mean it is loveless, Hermione." Dumbledore turned to her, taking her hands in his.

"Love is more than just an emotion. It comprises all the little things you do for a person to show that you care. It may start out that you merely bring him a cup of tea at the end of the day or maybe he cooks you a nice dinner. Slowly after awhile these add up; consideration turns to respect, respect turns to admiration, and admiration turns to love."

"But what about passion?" she asked timidly, a little embarrassed to be asking the Headmaster such a question.

"That too, though it won't last. It never does. Can you imagine if it did? How tiring!" The twinkle returned to his eyes. He smiled at her, and then stood up.

"I'll leave you now. I suspect you have quite a bit of work ahead of you, what with pro and con lists to compile for all the possible candidates." Hermione watched as he walked away, and then turned back to the lake. The list was in her bag, but she left it there. She could look at it later, first she had to come to terms with her decision—one step at a time.


	2. two

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Chapter Two**

Slipping out of bed, Hermione was careful not to wake Ginny as she donned her robe and slippers, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs. It had been over two weeks since she had looked at the letter from the Ministry. She had been busy working with McGonagall at Hogwarts and then with Order business when she had returned to 12 Grimmauld Place. She couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, but she wanted to peruse the list in peace.

Alone in the kitchen, she made herself a pot of tea, and then reluctantly turned to her bag. The list was quite long, the scroll curling over the edge of the table. Hermione felt an unwanted rush of pleasure at the knowledge that so many men wanted to marry her. But upon closer inspection, pride turned to terror as she realized that it was not her charming personality or good looks that had attracted them to her—not even her formidable intellect. Names like Nott, Lestrange, and Crabbe, littered the list. And Hermione realized that once again her connection to Harry had endangered her.

'It's a good thing he's worth it,' she thought, smiling to herself at memories of Ron and Harry the last few days they had spent as students at Hogwarts. The two had finally pulled Hermione away from the library, and convinced her to join them in a few last adventures.

Scanning the list again, she noticed that every available Weasley was there, Ron, George, and Charlie, as well as many of the Order members. She gave a slight shudder after reading Moody's name and was surprised to see Snape's. Getting to work, she eliminated any known Death Eaters and then categorized the rest into 'Needs more research,' 'Possible Candidate,' and 'Unlikely.' Next she began compiling pro and con lists. She paused at Ron's name, unsure of which category to put him in. She had thought that he had returned the feelings she had developed for him in their fifth year, but he never did anything but pick fights over other boys showing her attention. He didn't want her but he didn't like the idea of anyone else dating her either. It was similar to the way he reacted to Ginny's boyfriends. It was an awkward situation. She had romantic feelings, but was it love, was it enough to sustain a marriage? And did he feel the same way?

No, she decided. She couldn't marry Ron, not like this anyway. If they were to be together, she wanted it to be because he wanted her, not because he felt duty-bound to marry her to 'save' her from this marriage law. She would soon grow to love him and he would feel something less. It would be unequal, and Hermione couldn't stand the thought of that. Sadly, she moved his name to the 'Unlikely' category before turning to the other names.

She worked long into the night, falling asleep slumped over the table, her brown mess of curls fanned out over a pile of parchments and quills. Remus discovered her in the morning, waking her gently.

"Oh sorry," she said groggily, her hair going every which way with ink stains on her cheeks.

"Have you made a decision yet?" he asked, picking up her extensive lists.

"I've narrowed it down to two," she said, yawning.

"I see....Charlie Weasley," he said, shuffling the papers, "and...Hermione is this right?" She blushed and looked away.

"Yes," she said softly.

"But....Severus?" he seemed lost for words. Hermione had to admit that she had been surprised herself to find that along with Charlie, Professor Snape's pro list was the longest of any of her possible candidates. He had only made it into the 'Possible' category after she decided all the Order members under the age of 40 should be considered her best and most likely options. Charlie's con list was actually longer than Snape's, but on the merit that just being Snape was quite a convincing con. It left her confused about what to do. Did she take the risk that her husband most likely would want to live in Romania? Or risk staying in Scotland with a man she respected but could hardly stand to be in a room with and who she knew felt the same way about her?

"What about Ron?" Remus asked. He, like everyone else, had assumed that this choice would be easy for her, that she and Ron would marry.

She explained her reasoning from the night before, adding, "I think what I felt for Ron are silly schoolgirl longings. Nothing we could base a marriage on, especially because I am sure he doesn't feel the same for me. If he did, he would have done something before now."

Remus nodded, "I think you're right. You're his best friend and he will always love you, but I've seen him looking at Luna with his own dreamy look in his eye recently." Hermione had too, and it helped with her decision to not include him in her list of possible choices.

"So...Snape?" he asked, handing back her lists.

"I think so," she replied.


	3. three

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Chapter Three**

She sat reading in the library when he came in, his robes billowing out behind him and the door slamming shut without his even touching it. Looking up, she expected to see a look of anger directed at her. She had surmised that Snape had been included on the list because all the male Order members had been. He could have hardly expected that she would choose him. But instead of anger, he merely sneered at her.

"I hardly thought you were such a masochist, Miss Granger."

"Sir?" she asked, confused by his reaction.

"You do realize what marrying me will entail?" he asked snidely, sitting in the chair across from her.

"If you mean enduring cutting comments regarding myself and my friends, its something I have become immune to over the last seven years," she said somewhat snidely herself. If she was to marry him, she would have to start standing up to him and she resolved to start now.

"Well there is that," he conceded, "but I was referring to my other _profession_."

"Yes, I did consider that," she admitted, "But after seeing a certain number of your colleagues on the list, I decided that this is strategically the best move for both of us. You can tell one side you married me to gain access to important information and the other side so that you could protect me."

"That is what I gain, but what do you get?" he asked pointedly.

"Simple, Professor McGonagall offered me an apprenticeship I would otherwise have to turn down," she said.

He sat, staring at her, seemingly in shock at her shrewd logic.

"It seems to me then we should pick a date," he said finally.

She was amazed at how easily he had acquiesced; knowing that other concessions later in the marriage would not be so easily won. To ensure that the marriage even took place, she thought it wise to proceed quickly before either one of them changed their minds.

"I think as soon as possible would be the best, don't you?" She watched as he sat back, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair and murmuring dates and days as he made mental calculations.

"The fourth," he declared, "That is the earliest."

She nodded, that date worked for her. It was just over a week away, but she didn't need much time to prepare. If she had known she would be moving straight back to Hogwarts she would have left her trunk there, but it wouldn't take long to pack it again.

"Here or at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Hogwarts," he answered, "The headmaster can oversee the vows and then you can move your things."

"That will work. I'll insist that Ron and Harry be there as well," she said the last part quickly, trying to gauge his reaction. He frowned at her.

"If they must. I suppose it would be suspicious if they were absent," he noted dryly, "And your parents?"

"I think not," she had already considered the thought of her muggle parents at her wedding. They would be angry and confused about why she was marrying in the first place, trying, she was sure, to convince her to leave the wizarding world. And meeting Snape would only further convince them they were right. No, she would visit them and give them the news after the fact, when it was too late for their pleas and entreaties to have any effect on her decision. It would be hard enough to answer the astonished outcries she was sure to face from Ron and Harry, but at least they would not tempt her to leave.

"Then it's settled," she stated matter of factly.

If Snape thought her exclusion of her parents was odd, he didn't comment but just nodded curtly before standing to leave. He stopped shortly at the door, wheeling around to face her again, "Your tactics may be somewhat Slytherin, Miss Granger, but you will need all of your Griffindor courage to be married to me."

And then he left.

She shivered at his last words. They pierced the heart of the matter, forcing her to look at what she was considering doing for the first time. Yes, she would have her apprenticeship, but she would also have Snape.


	4. four

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Chapter Four**

The week came and went faster than any before it in Hermione's memory. She hardly felt prepared. She had suffered through the indignant cries of Ron and Harry after she told them the news, and the subsequent appeals reminding her that she could still change her mind throughout the week. Ron was less enthusiastic about changing her mind than Harry though, somewhat relieved to be spared the duty of marrying her.

"I would have married you, Hermione, you know that," he had said to her after breakfast one morning.

"I know," she said softly.

"As long as you know you have other options," he said, his face starting to turn pink as it always did when he talked of emotional things.

"This is the best option."

"He doesn't deserve you," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. In the past, she might have been excited at his touch and attempt to console her, but those feelings had vanished completely after her decision to marry Snape.

"No one does," she said flippantly, trying to alleviate some of the tension. Ron laughed, dropping his hands and chucking her on the arm instead.

"You mean no one can handle you," he countered.

"But won't it be fun to watch Snape try?" Harry had come up behind them.

"I'm not _that_ bad , am I?" she had asked. They had assured her that she was with mischievous smiles on their faces that had made her laugh.

Other members of the Order had similar reactions to Remus—shock followed by begrudging approval. Molly Weasley had been by far the worst, not because she disapproved but because she did.

"You'll be good for him my dear," she had told Hermione, but the worst had come when she had offered advice on the wedding night.

"I don't think that will be an issue, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione had sputtered, in shock at the suggestion that this would be a marriage in every sense of the word.

"Well if you ever need a woman to talk to about such things, you can always come to me."

Hermione had thanked her and had quickly exited the room.

Now, she sat in the Headmaster's office waiting in awkward silence with Ron and Harry for Professor Dumbledore and Severus. It felt strange thinking of him like that, as _Severus_. But she could hardly expect to call her husband Professor or sir. It was odd how intimate a first name could be. He had never addressed her as anything other than Miss Granger; she supposed that would change as well. The corners of her mouth quirked in a small smile at the thought of him insulting her using her new name, 'Do you enjoy being an insufferable know-it-all Mrs. Snape?' It sounded all wrong.

She looked up to notice Harry giving her an odd look. He probably didn't expect to see her smiling today, but it was all she could do. Otherwise she might cry.

A moment later the headmaster and her groom entered the room, along with Professor McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore motioned for them to take their places, standing in front of him. She stood facing Snape, his face a stony mask. His inky eyes found her brown ones, both taking the other one in.

"Take her hands, Severus," the older man directed. She gave him her hands and he held them loosely in his own. She noticed that they were calloused from working with potions ingredients and the only evidence of any anxiety was that they were somewhat sweaty. She took a deep breath and Dumbledore began.

"Please repeat after me, I, Hermione Granger give myself willingly into matrimony to this man Severus Snape." She repeated, her voice soft and unsteady. She didn't look at him but at the hands that held hers.

"I promise to respect, honor, and protect him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health as long as I shall live." Again she repeated the words, her eyes moving to his face.

"And now, Severus if you would repeat after me," Dumbledore continued. She noticed that he paused in hesitation as he spoke her first name, as she had done when speaking his, but he tightened his grip on her hands just slightly when he reached the words 'protect her.'

And then it was over, and they were married.

"You can kiss the bride," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye and smiling widely. Severus turned sharply and gave him a puzzled look.

"It's a muggle custom," she explained and before the situation could turn mortifyingly awkward she leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. He dropped her hands in surprise, and quickly busied himself with smoothing his robes while watching the reaction of the boys from the corner of his eyes. Ron and Harry sniggered at seeing their hated professor ill at ease. She shot them an evil look, warning them to behave themselves. They quieted as Professor McGonagall brought out a bottle of champagne to toast the event.

"May you come to appreciate the strengths and good qualities the other has to offer," Dumbledore toasted, "And short memories for the rest!"

They sipped their champagne quietly and Hermione was almost relieved when Snape ushered her out of the room, announcing that she needed to move her things. Almost relieved because she realized now she would have to be alone with him. He led her to the dungeons. A painting of a garden swung back to reveal his rooms. Their rooms, she thought to herself. He led her into a small living area with squashy chairs similar to those in the Griffindor common room in front of the fire and a few book shelves filled with Potions books. It had a lived in quality that might have been comfortable except that she knew she had to share it with Snape.

"Your trunk is in there," he pointed to what she assumed was the bedroom, "The house elves have added an extra armoire for you to store your things in. A desk was added in here for you to use." Again he pointed across the living area to a small desk in the corner, "And I cleared a book shelf. Ask before you touch anything else. I don't like noise so I expect you to be quiet and I won't tolerate visitors. If you want to meet with your obnoxious friends you can go elsewhere. Are we clear?"

She nodded. She was a little indignant at his imperious attitude, but it was little more than she expected. She wouldn't let him push her around but neither did she want to argue before the wedding had been over an hour.

"That suits me fine, though I might need more shelves for the books Professor McGonagall will require me to buy." He nodded and then turned to leave.

"I'll be in my office. I'll leave you to unpack." And then he was gone. She stood in the middle of the room feeling bereft. Surveying the room, she tried to imagine it as her own but found it impossible. It was his, and she would be an unwanted invasion. She walked into the adjoining room, the bedroom. There was only one bed, she realized in horror. But then what else did she expect, twin beds? A separate room? This may not be a marriage in every sense of the word, but others had to believe it was.

With a few waves of her wand she put away her things before lying down. At least the bed was fairly large. She didn't need to worry about bumping into him in the middle of the night. Overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted, tears began streaming down her face. It hadn't seemed real before. Now the reality of her decision was hitting home with the force of a brick wall. Grabbing a pillow to her, she muffled the sobs that came in waves. She cried until there were no more tears left before falling asleep.

She awoke hours later, startled to find Severus in the bed beside her. Quietly, she grabbed her pajamas and headed for the bathroom. Frizzy locks of hair going every which way and red, swollen eyes reflected back at her from the mirror. After changing out of her clothes and brushing her teeth, she crept back into the bedroom. It was cold and she clamored back into bed. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she hoped everything would look better in the morning.


	5. five

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Chapter Five**

Things did not look better in the morning. If anything they appeared worse. Hermione awoke before Severus and tiptoed into the bathroom. Not two minutes later, a powerful knocking on the door startled her.

"Hurry up in there!" she heard him shout from the other side of the door.

"Just a minute," she shouted back, her words garbled because she had just started brushing her teeth.

"Its been several minutes already! What the hell are you doing in there?" Before she could answer he had charmed his way through the lock and was barging in. She dropped her toothbrush at his sheer audacity.

"I would have thought that by now you would have conceded defeat when it came to that rat's nest you call hair," he said maliciously.

"Just because you care nothing for personal hygiene doesn't mean the rest of us shouldn't," she countered, looking at his greasy hair and yellowed teeth.

"Get out," he spat.

"No," she said defiantly. He was much less intimidating without his billowing black robes. Seeing him in his dark green wrapper and slippers, she felt sure she could win this argument. She picked up her wand to further solidify her position.

"You're lucky I'm low-maintenance, I'll only be a few minutes more," she said. He just stood there glaring at her, trying to intimidate her into submission. But years of Potions classes left her immune to that particular tactic.

"That may work on your first years, _Professor_, but the longer you stand there, the longer you will have to wait for the bathroom." With an indignant grunt, he turned on his heels and stalked out of the room. Hermione was tempted to take her time in getting ready, but decided that in order to keep what little peace remained she should hurry up. Besides she had an early appointment with Professor McGonagall. She came out of the bathroom to find him standing there, tapping his foot and impatiently consulting his watch.

"All yours," she said sweetly and motioning him in.

"It was mine to begin with," he said spitefully as he stomped past her.

Hermione dressed quickly and left before he could leave the bathroom and harass her further.

Her first day with Professor McGonagall proved fascinating as they talked over what she would be expected to learn throughout the apprenticeship. Excitement bubbled up in her and she started to think that marrying Snape so she could have this apprenticeship was worth the trouble of putting up with his grumpiness in the morning. She returned to the dungeons late that evening, her arms loaded down with books she had checked out of the library. She wanted a head start on the curriculum Professor McGonagall had set. Severus sat on the couch in front of the fire, reading. He barely glanced up from his book as she entered.

She dropped the books on her small desk in the corner and then started working on organizing them according to specific topic and what order they should be read. She set aside _Turtles to Teacups: The Theory of Transfiguration_ to read first. She had learned the basics at Hogwart's but had always wondered what sort of situation would call for transfiguring a turtle into a teacup or a hedgehog into a pincushion. She looked forward to learning the theory and useful purposes for transfiguration.

"I believe I told you I liked it quiet," she heard him snarl from across the room.

"Am I being loud?" she asked. She hadn't been doing anything other than arranging her books, certainly nothing too noisy.

"Quite," he said in a clipped voice.

"Would you prefer that I wait and do this later when you're not here?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Well, that's too bad. I'm not being noisy and will be finished in just a few moments." She turned back to his books, ignoring his indignant huff from behind her. To avoid being in the same room with him, she retreated to the bedroom to read.

The next morning Hermione woke after Severus was already in the bathroom. She lay in bed until he came out before scurrying in herself. She retreated to the bedroom again that night, letting him have the living room. They passed two more days in similar fashion, the tension building until it was more than she could stand. Someone had to make a move and it appeared it would have to be her. She remembered Professor Dumbledore's words to her, "it may start out with you bringing him a cup of tea at the end of the day." And so she decided to start with that.

After four days of marriage, Hermione tentatively approached her husband with a cup of tea. She felt rather like Esther in Xerxes' court, anticipating being snapped at and sent away.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, holding out the steaming mug in his direction. He considered her for a moment, then took the proffered cup.

"You haven't poisoned it have you?" he asked suspiciously, sniffing the contents.

"No!" she cried, truly affronted that he would think she would do such a thing, and then wondered if that was his idea of a joke. She sat down in the chair opposite the couch.

"How was your day?" she asked. He ignored her question but took a sip of his tea.

"Trying to be domestic, are we?" he asked sarcastically.

"We can hardly continue in the manner of the last few days. I don't think it's too much to try and be civil to each other." He merely shrugged. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. She remembered reading in one of those self help books about making friends that one should ask lots of questions and be prepared to listen. Hermione thought it was worth a try.

"What do you do all day when the students aren't here?" she attempted. Actually she had been wondering. He disappeared in the morning until dinner in the Great Hall every day.

"I research and develop my own potions," he said dryly as if this was the last thing in the world he wanted to discuss.

"Really?" she was intrigued.

"Yes, really," he said irritably, "Are we done with this charade yet? I was enjoying my book." But Hermione's curiosity had been whet and she wanted to know more about his research. Nonplussed, she ploughed on.

"What sort of potions are you developing?" she asked despite the fact that he had opened his book back up.

"I'm working in conjunction with an expert on charms to develop a cure for certain kinds of mental ailments," he said sighing loudly. She ignored his not so subtle hints to be left alone.

"What sort of mental ailments?"

"Madness brought on by extreme distress." She wondered what had him interested in such a field of potions. Perhaps he knew someone...and then it dawned on her.

"The Longbottoms?" she gasped.

"Yes," he conceded.

"But you hate Neville."

"I have never once hinted at any such thing," he said. She looked at him incredulously.

"My personal feelings for the boy and my opinion of his abysmal Potions skills are two separate things. Besides it has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with his parents. They were good people who deserved better."

"Oh," she sat staring at him even as he turned back to his book. She was seeing a different side of him she had never expected to encounter. Feeling the matter was closed, she picked up her own book, but instead of retreating to the bedroom she stayed where she was.

The next month passed by in the sedate and slow manner that Hermione often associated with summer with the couple slowly adjusting to living with each other. She had her apprenticeship to occupy her and he had his potions. When she wasn't away on Order business, they spent the evenings reading in front of the fire. Sometimes she regaled him with the events of her day while he sat frowning but enduring her soliloquy quietly. It wasn't much different talking to Harry or Ron about classes, the same glazed stare. He rarely spoke himself, only occasionally breaking the silence to comment on something Albus had said at dinner or to berate her about her choice of books.

"That's utter rubbish you know," he told her one night, motioning to the book she was reading about the interdisciplinary study of Potions and Transfiguration.

"I think it's quite interesting actually," she remarked not glancing up from the page. She had perfected her technique of both reading and carrying on a conversation, or tuning out a conversation, whichever the situation called for, during her time in school. It proved a necessity as a friend of Ron and Harry's.

"The man knows nothing about Potions; he wrote a journal article last year that had three separate mistakes in it," he said, his contempt clear. She looked up from her page.

"He's not a Potions Master, his expertise is in Transfiguration. But the point of the book is discussing the possibilities of combining the two fields," she explained in much the same tone she used with Ron when explaining the importance of Arithmancy or doing one's own homework.

"He should stick to Transfiguration," he scoffed. She shook her head and returned to her reading.

"If you want a more balanced view, I would try Diego Compostela, a Spanish Potions Master who has also studied Transfiguration extensively," he offered before going back to his own book.

"Thank you, I will," she said looking up at him smiling slightly. They sat quietly reading for several minutes more before she heard him gasp and grab at his arm.

"Is it...?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," he snapped.

"Should I get someone? Professor Dumbledore?" She suddenly felt helpless.

"No, stay here," he ordered. She watched as he collected his cloak, checked to make sure he had his wand and then head to the door.

"Don't wait up," he said bitterly as he left, the painting slamming loudly into place behind him. Hermione sat staring after him, all at once feeling bereft and alone. How many times in the last month had she wished to be alone? Wished to be rid of his presence? And now that she was, she was overcome with the desire to have him back even if he was insulting her taste in books, because it would mean he was safe.


	6. six

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Chapter Six**

She sat on the sofa waiting; a cup of tea on the table beside her was left untouched. He had told her not to wait up but she couldn't sleep knowing that he was out there. The door slammed behind her and she turned anxiously to see him walking across the room, removing his cloak as he went.

"I thought I told you not to wait up," he said curtly.

"I couldn't sleep," she replied.

"As touching as your concern may be, I'm back. So go to bed," he ordered imperiously. She opened her mouth to argue that he was in no position to order her about, but then decided against it. He had already had a trying night, this was no time for an argument. She slid off the couch and headed for the bedroom. She heard him shuffling around and then the tinkering of glasses. She started when a shot glass fell to the floor, shattering. She turned to see him standing over it, scowling as if it had jumped from his hand rather than him dropping it. Glancing up, he noticed her still in the room and fixed her with the same evil glare that struck fear into his students. She turned and scurried into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Slowly, she changed and climbed into bed. He was back, safe and in one piece, so she knew she should be able to fall asleep. But sleep didn't come. It had only been a month, but already she felt uneasy about sleeping alone. He never touched her and rarely spoke to her, but just the sound of his steady breathing and the weight of another person on the other side of the bed comforted her. It had been the same in the dorm, as much as Lavender and Parvati had irritated her at times, she missed their quiet presence, (the only time when they were quiet,) when they had left for the Christmas holidays and she had stayed behind.

Over an hour later, she heard him enter the room and finally crawl into bed. She could smell the alcohol on him. She wondered if his sorrows had been drowned or merely suppressed as she drifted off to sleep.

She was dreaming about the Yule Ball in her fourth year, except this time she was dancing with Snape and he was telling her that even her smooth hair could not make up for her abysmal dancing, when a rustle and yelp woke her. Instinctually, she grabbed for her wand on the bedside table and looked about. Snape lay in the bed beside her, tossing and turning. He mumbled incoherently and he was sweating. He looked ill, and Hermione was unsure whether she should try and wake him or call for Madame Pomfrey. She watched him a few minutes more and then prodded him softly with the end of her wand.

"Professor," she whispered. But he continued twitching and mumbling.

"Severus!" she said a little louder this time and poking him harder. It appeared to work, he sat up in bed with a start, grabbing his own wand. But phantoms from his nightmare lingered and he looked around him frantically. Seeing Hermione, he grabbed her by the wrist and pointed his wand at her, its tip aimed between her eyes.

"What do you want?" he hissed and then she heard him whisper, "_Leglimens_."

Images of her recent dream flashed before her, then a hundred more. She sat in potions class, her arm raised over her head while he ignored her. He made a rude comment about her teeth that had grown past her chin. Sneaking into his office to steal the ingredients for the Polyjuice potion, setting fire to his robes, solving the logic puzzle, the confrontation in the Shrieking Shack, their wedding, arguing with Harry and Ron about how Snape couldn't be responsible for Harry being in danger...they came so fast and furious that it was all Hermione could do to grab her wand and cast the first spell that came to her mind.

"_Protego_."

The images didn't stop but changed and they were much more horrible than before. Masked men stood in a circle around a man writhing in pain, blood coming from his nose, his mouth, his eyes. A green shadow loomed over a burning house, while screams could be heard from inside. A man yelled at a woman while a boy hid under a table, listening. Four boys laughed and jeered as the same boy hung upside down. Another circle but this time a large snake slid around stopping and sticking its forked tongue out to taste the fear, a woman was screaming....

The connection between them broke, and Hermione fell back on the pillow gasping for air and shaking violently.

"Hermione?" Snape leaned over her, trembling himself. She tried to answer him, but only managed a faint whimper. He gathered her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. She didn't resist, but clung to his nightshirt as she started to cry.

"The horror, the horror," she choked, her voice muffled.

"Damn girl. You were never meant to see such things," he said as he rocked her gently, one hand smoothing her hair, the other on her back. After a few minutes and some deep breaths and Hermione felt herself calming down. She lay there quietly in his arms until he pulled back. He reached out and cupped her face with his hand, rubbing his thumb along her cheek to catch the few remaining tears. Then as if burned, he quickly pulled away.

"Better now?"

She nodded her head, wiping her wet cheeks dry with the sleeve of her pajamas.

"Tea?" he asked. Again she nodded. He left the room, returning a few minutes later with two steaming mugs in hand. Handing her one, he sat on the edge of the bed facing her.

"So, do you want to tell me what the hell you were doing?" he asked, all evidence of the tenderness he had shown now gone. She avoided his question and his gaze by sipping her tea, her hands still shaking slightly. The warm liquid burned her throat causing her to cough and sputter.

"I added a calming draught," he remarked dryly watching her struggle for breath.

"It tastes like whiskey," she finally managed. He merely raised one eyebrow and sipped his own tea.

"You were thrashing about. I was trying to decide whether I should call for Madame Pomfrey or not," she said in answer to his question.

"By poking me with your wand?" The question was laced with sarcasm she chose to ignore by shrugging her shoulders.

"I hardly expected you to react by...like that," she searched for the right words. To tell the truth she wasn't exactly sure what had happened; she was still reeling from the effects of the spell—something the whiskey in her tea was doing little to remedy. He sat quietly, sipping his tea and mulling over her explanation.

"You interrupted a nightmare," he admitted finally. After seeing the images she had seen earlier Hermione wasn't surprised he was having nightmares. His life seemed one, it would only be natural for it to flow over into his dreams as well. They sipped their tea in silence a few moments more before he spoke again.

"I might apologize for attacking you except I realize now you've not only assaulted me twice before but stolen from me as well," he remarked sardonically.

"We're even then?" she asked timidly, suddenly self-conscious. He had looked into her mind and seen so many secrets.

"Hardly," he snorted. He moved forward, taking the now empty teacup from her and placing it on the side table. She lay back down and pulled the covers up to her chin. Hermione wished she wasn't too old for a teddy bear; she desperately needed something to cling to. Severus extinguished the lights and lay down next to her.

"Goodnight," she said quietly.

He merely grunted.

Closing her eyes, all the images she had seen in his mind came rushing back. Despite the 'calming draught' she started trembling all over again. She opened her eyes, but in the darkness of the room she felt sure she saw red slit eyes staring at her.

"You're shaking the bed," he accused her.

"I...I'm sorry," she stammered, "I don't think I'll be able to sleep, not now."

He didn't respond but merely re-lighted the candles and left the room. She felt terrible. This night had been miserable from the start, first with him being summoned, the waiting, his attack on her mind, and now the nightmares she was sure to have not only tonight but for weeks to come, she was sure. Severus returned this time with two vials of liquid.

"I should have taken this earlier, before we both needed it," he said, handing one to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Dreamless Sleep potion," he said, downing the amber liquid. She followed suit, grimacing at the foul flavor. She lay back down and he climbed back under the blankets, this time closer than ever before. Hesitantly and without a word, he nestled next to her, placing his arm protectively around her. She didn't say anything but was silently thankful for his presence. Perhaps it was the potion but Hermione rather thought it was him that drove away the demons in her head. She only hoped she did the same for him.


	7. seven

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

Thank you for the reviews! You can't imagine how encouraging it is living so far from home to find my inbox full, ( I, of course, love the emails from my family and friends but I'm finding myself just as excited to see review alerts as well.) I actually have several more chapters of this story written but I'm working to revise them now, but here are two more installments. Also, please feel free to read the two shorter pieces I wrote earlier but haven't uploaded until now.

**Chapter Seven**

It was something that they never discussed but things changed between them, a natural result after having such intimate contact with a person's memories. Severus kept his distance as he did before, except on those occasions when the Mark on his arm called him away. Hermione would wait up and upon his return would fill his glass with Firewhiskey. Climbing into bed, he would hold onto her tightly in an effort to stem the flow of inevitable nightmares that always followed meeting with his old master. She didn't mind even if sometimes she felt he would crush her. He kept so many people away with his cold demeanor and cutting comments that deep down she felt a little honored that she was the one who could offer him comfort, however small. The next morning he inevitably returned to the sarcastic bastard he had been before, but either his tongue dulled somewhat or Hermione had grown accustomed to its sting, because she didn't seem to mind as much as she had before.

Summer slowly turned to autumn and with the return of the students, Severus grew to be more irritable than he had been before. She endured his dark moods as best she could, snapping back at him when he became too much to handle.

"Honestly! Why do you teach if you hate it so much?" she exclaimed after an hour's complaining about his newest first years. He stopped abruptly in mid-sentence about a poor boy who made even Neville look like a genius in potions.

"It's not the teaching I hate, just the students," he answered.

"You can't have one without the other," she pointed out.

"I don't know," he huffed, obviously upset to have his ranting interrupted, "because being a spy doesn't pay particularly well and I have a young wife who expects to be supported in high fashion."

"I would hardly call this high fashion," she said sardonically, "and I have never asked to be supported—just your name on a marriage certificate to get the Ministry out of my hair."

"And free reign in my bathroom," came the scathing reply.

"Now, dear, I thought we had agreed that it was 'our' bathroom," she said, her voice saccharine sweet. She had learned in the last several months that the easiest way to goad him was to call him pet names like dear or my sweet. It earned her a dangerous glare every time, but it was worth the trouble in the end. Actually she sometimes found herself enjoying their arguments, the battle of wits and words. He was much more engaging than Ron or Harry had ever been and almost as entertaining...as long as she didn't take his comments to heart. One couldn't be too sensitive when dealing with her husband.

"So why do you teach?" she asked again, ignoring the scowl he directed towards her for calling him 'dear.'

"Because Albus asked me to, and I have found that I can't say no to him," he answered.

"He is rather convincing isn't he?"

"Quite."

"There must be more though, you can't despise it as much as you claim you do. I think that deep down inside somewhere hidden you really like your students," she said slyly, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

"That's preposterous," he protested.

"Oh no it isn't," she was on a roll now, "but you're afraid to ruin your air of mystique or perhaps lose your disciplinary edge by showing you care so you react by being overly harsh. The more you like a student the more likely you are to push them in class."

"I thought your apprenticeship with Minerva involved Transfiguration not pop psychology," he sneered. She ignored his comment and continued her analysis.

"With my theory that would mean your favorite students included Neville Longbottom, Harry, and me," she teased.

"I may have been strict with Mr. Longbottom but it was in the interest of survival, I assure you. _Potter_," he spat the name, "is pompous and arrogant and deserved every harsh word he received. You can't be overly self-confident in Potions. It's dangerous and leads to mistakes."

"You seem to manage somehow," she retorted. He was starting to rub off on her. She was much quicker to produce a scathing remark than she ever before, but he ignored it this time.

"And you...," he paused trying to find the best combination of insults to hurl at her.

"Were the best student you ever had?" she finished for him.

"Hardly," he scoffed.

"Admit it. I was the brightest, most enthusiastic student you have had," she said eagerly.

"If by enthusiastic you mean annoying then yes," he answered.

"And the brightest?"

"You were adequate. I recall Malfoy being quite good though," he said with an evil grin on his face. He knew that she despised Draco Malfoy and several times he had beaten her for the highest marks in Potions.

It was her turn to scowl. How was it that he knew exactly which buttons to push and when to push them? She left him on the couch, a victorious smirk on his face, to prepare for bed.

The next day she accompanied Severus into Hogsmeade.

"Do you have to walk so fast?" she said, jogging to catch up. She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, forcing him to slow his pace.

"Do you have to walk so slow?" he said scowling down at her.

"Why did you ask me to come if you intended to scurry off with me jogging behind?" she asked irritated and out of breath.

"I thought it prudent that we make a public appearance as a married couple," he told her tersely.

"To prove to the Ministry that we are following the letter of the law and demonstrate my affection and trust in you to anyone else who might see us?"

"Exactly," he nodded. Hermione smiled and reached for his hand. He looked at her surprised.

"We're married," she reminded him, "we want people to know." He didn't answer but gripped her hand tighter. She liked the feel of her hand in his and they walked in companionable silence. Upon reaching the wizard village, however, Hermione began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Not many outside the Order members and the Hogwart's staff knew of her marriage to Snape. Now she had to face the stares and whispered speculations as they passed through the crowded streets.

"Your Gryffindor courage isn't failing you is it?" he whispered silkily into her ear. She jerked back at the remark that stung almost as much as the stares. She suddenly realized that this was what he had meant before; she had assumed he implied living with him would take courage. But now she rather thought she would need nerves of steel to face the scorn that was attached to him and now consequently herself as well. Her friends, and even her family after much discussion, had accepted and supported her decision but what about acquaintances, former schoolmates, and others?

He pulled her along from where she had paused. Despite his taunting he gave her hand a comforting squeeze and then began tracing small circles in her palm with his thumb as he led her into the bookstore.

"I assume you want to start here?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

She nodded enthusiastically. Dropping his hand, she began perusing the shelves for new titles. From behind her she heard him snort in amusement at her eagerness.

"I'll come back to collect you in an hour," he told her, "I have other business to attend to, Potions ingredients to buy." She waved her hand absentmindedly to let him know she had heard him and then turned her full attention to the shelves before her.

.She wandered around the store for over an hour, choosing at last three books to buy, including the one Severus had recommended on the combination of Transfiguration and Potions. Checking her watch, she wondered where he was. The Apothecary where she knew he bought most of his ingredients wasn't far, surely he would be done by now. Almost reluctantly she left the bookshop and wandered out into the streets.

"Hermione!" she heard someone exclaim. Turning to look, she saw Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown in front of her.

"Hello," she greeted them warmly. They spent several minutes chatting, dispensing with the regular niceties before the conversation turned to the marriage law and who in their class at Hogwart's had been affected.

"We're getting married in two weeks," Lavender practically squealed, showing Hermione the engagement ring on her finger.

"Congratulations," she said.

"We heard a rumor that you were already married...," Seamus tried to sound casual, but Hermione knew that they both were itching to know the truth.

"Not only that but to Snape!" Lavender said, laughing. "We didn't believe it of course."

"But it's true," she said, watching as looks of horror spread over the couple's faces.

"Professor _Snape_?" Lavender sputtered. Seamus at least was calmer about her proclamation.

"I always thought you and Ron would get married," he said.

"Yes, well, so did a lot of other people," she said starting to get irritated with this conversation.

"But Ron is too much like a brother to me for us to have considered it. And my other options were few and far between," she lied. "Living with Severus has been very convenient in regards to my apprenticeship, and of course I have unlimited access to the Hogwart's library...even the Restricted Section." She couldn't tell them that her husband was a spy or a member of the Order of the Phoenix, that she respected his bravery and dedication. But they seemed to accept without effort her excuse about the library, it was after all a large part of the whole truth.

The conversation soon faltered. And after a few moments of awkward silence, Hermione finally extricated herself with as much grace as possible.

"Well, I must be going. I was just looking for Severus when I bumped into you," she said, noticing their discomfort at her using his given name.

"Goodbye then," said Lavender.

"Good luck with Snape," Seamus offered gallantly, before escorting Lavender away. Hermione shook her head. She hoped she didn't have many more conversations like that, but she feared she would be unable to avoid them. Perhaps she should take an ad out in the 'Daily Prophet' explaining her reasoning. Or maybe the 'Quibbler'? Yes, she thought after some reflection, her marriage to Snape was a story more fitting for the 'Quibbler'—hardly believable.


	8. eight

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione pulled her cloak around her tightly to ward off sharp October wind. She might have appreciated the red and orange sky that complemented the turning leaves except she was too busy searching for Severus. He hadn't been in the Apothecary's or any of the surrounding shops as well. Impatient and irritable after her encounter with Seamus and Lavender, she wondered briefly if she should head back to the castle without him, when she heard his deep voice coming from a nearby alley. She started down the small street and was getting ready to ask him if he was ready to go, but she stopped abruptly at the sound of another voice—Lucius Malfoy. She ducked behind some boxes one of the shopkeepers had stowed in the alleyway and listened.

"...if we can't get at him, then we can hurt him in other ways," Malfoy said.

"He's protected as well as Potter himself. You'd be lucky to get within five hundred meters of him," she heard Snape say.

"Dumbledore can't have the resources to have protective guards on both of them."

"The two are inseparable so it hardly makes it necessary," Snape pointed out.

"It's the perfect plan, Severus. We isolate Potter by removing his friends. You've already maneuvered the Granger girl away from the other two, now all that is left is the Weasley brat," he said maliciously. Hermione shivered at the cold hatred in his voice and the consequence of what exactly they were discussing.

"You don't have much of a plan as it is, Lucius."

"That's where you come in. We'll need you to wring some information out of the girl. Find the best way to get near Weasley—when and where."

Hermione could see Severus shake his head at this.

"I commend your fortitude, and your dedication to the cause. Draco tells me she wasn't your favorite student. And a mudblood at that!" Malfoy sneered.

"There are certain side benefits to the arrangement that make it more tolerable," Severus said, the insinuation clear to both Malfoy and Hermione.

"I suppose there would have to be," Malfoy replied, "She's not much to look at, but then neither are you. Do you use the Imperius curse to control her?"

"No, she's too strong willed for that. There are other ways of controlling a young impressionable witch like her, much more entertaining than a simple Imperius curse," Snape said.

Her stomach turned at the thought of what he was suggesting and forced herself to remember that he was playacting, that he had to say these things. Malfoy laughed, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"We shouldn't be seen talking here," Snape said suddenly and sharply.

"You're right. Remember what I said and don't forget that we're raiding the Millers tomorrow night. Come if you can get away from the old fool." And then with a loud pop, Malfoy disappeared. Hermione quickly retreated from the alleyway. She didn't want Severus to discover her hiding among the boxes. He emerged from the small street a few minutes later.

"There you are," he growled.

"I've been looking for you," she said as he stalked up to her and grabbed her hand.

"I was detained." He marched down the street once again dragging her behind him. She shuffled to catch up.

"Severus, please slow down," she said out of breath. He stopped shortly. He was angry she could tell. Not at her, though her slow pace probably only exacerbated things, but at the situation he was in.

"I need to go to London," he said tersely.

"I'll go with you," she offered. He nodded and then they apparated.

They appeared directly in front of the door to 12 Grimmauld Place, waiting impatiently as the house stretched itself out between the muggle homes that flanked it. They entered quietly in order not to disturb the painting of Mrs. Black that still stuck to the walls in the entryway despite several years worth of efforts to remove her. Even a silencing charm hadn't proven completely effective, only quieting her raving somewhat.

"Severus, Hermione," Lupin greeted them, ushering them into the kitchen. Severus dropped her hand, placing his instead on the small of her back as he propelled her through the door to the kitchen. The room was crowded with people having just finished dinner, but most upon seeing Snape exited the room quicker than they otherwise might have. Professor Dumbledore sat at the head of the table and smiled warmly at them as they came in. Harry and Ron stood by the door, looking aghast at seeing their friend with Snape. She realized it was the first time since their wedding since her two best friends had seen them together, and it must have been unsettling to see Snape with his hand on her back and then as he let it rest at her waist. She gave a wan smile in their direction before turning her attention back to her husband and the headmaster.

"I just spoke with Malfoy, Albus," Severus begun. Professor Dumbledore's smile faded.

"And...," the older man asked expectantly.

"The Millers—tomorrow night." Dumbledore nodded to Lupin, who left the room immediately in preparation to warn the family.

"You'll have to come up with a good excuse to why they aren't there tomorrow night," Hermione interjected, feeling sorry for the plight of the Miller family but also concern for Severus' safety.

"We always do," Dumbledore assured her. "Harry, Ron would you mind excusing us for a moment."

The two boys looked unsure of leaving but did as they were asked, but not before Harry could shoot Snape a suspicious glare. Severus returned the look with a scowl of his own, and he pulled Hermione closer to him, knowing it would provoke Harry further. She glared up at him, pulling away too late for Harry or Ron to see.

"Was that necessary?" she asked impatiently. She had hoped that their marriage would create some sort of bridge between the two men, but if anything it only made the situation worse. Now Harry had one more thing for which to resent Snape and Snape had one more thing with which to openly taunt Harry. They had behaved at the wedding, but barely. It seemed that little had changed. She would have to have stern talk with both parties because she refused to be in the middle.

"Perhaps not," he said in answer to her question, "but worth the look on his face."

She glowered at him.

"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to their purpose in coming to London. "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me, Severus?"

Hermione waited for him to relay the rest of the conversation she had overheard.

"I fed him the misinformation that we prepared. He seemed to accept it as true."

"Good," the headmaster replied, "Good. Well then, I must leave you. I'm meeting a very old friend to celebrate his birthday. Its not every day one turns 199." His eyes twinkled and Hermione wondered if by 'old friend' that they had been friends for a long time or if he meant his age. Dumbledore chuckled as he walked past her.

"Both," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear. She gasped and then stared at the old man as he left the room. She looked over at Severus to see him lift an eyebrow.

"Are you ready to go home?" she asked, ignoring his silent question. He nodded, following her out of the room. She said her goodbyes to Molly, Lupin, and the boys, telling them she was too tired to stay and visit and promising to stop by later in the week. Severus waited for her outside and it was as they were apparating back to the gates of Hogwarts that she suddenly realized that he hadn't told Professor Dumbledore the rest of the conversation with Malfoy—the plan to attack Ron.


	9. nine

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Chapter Nine**

They returned to their rooms, Hermione slamming the painting as she came through it.

"You didn't tell him everything!" she accused him loudly.

"What?" he hissed.

"You didn't tell Professor Dumbledore the whole truth. I heard you talking to Malfoy. Whose side are you really on?" she asked furiously.

"The winning side," he sneered.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means I am a spy, you stupid girl," he said with contempt as he looked down at her.

"Why didn't you tell Dumbledore everything?" She stood staring up at him, her hands clenched at her side, her face red with anger.

"Because he didn't need to know everything."

"And how do you decide what he needs to know and what he doesn't?" she asked flippantly. It was true that there were no solid plans for the removal of Ron but she thought the headmaster should have all the information in order to make an informed decision.

"I am playing a dangerous game of subtlety and strategy. I decide what each side needs to know and when they know it."

"So when you say you are on the winning side…?" He wasn't truly on their side. All the times she had defended him against the accusations of Harry and Ron, and they had been right all along. He was playing both sides, she realized.

"I have worked hard and long to place myself in a position where if I survive this war, I will be on whichever side claims victory."

"And if Voldemort wins? What then?" She ignored how he flinched at saying Voldemort's name; she had to know.

"I will be rewarded greatly," he said smugly. Her blood ran cold at his sureness in this and the power he held. He could tip the scales either direction with his flow of information to both sides.

"And what will happen to your muggleborn wife? What will happen to me?"

"I would protect you," he said blandly. She stopped suddenly at this answer. She had been ready to hurl a slew of invectives at him, but found herself taken aback at his response. He left her standing there in shock to put his cloak away and take a seat on the couch in front of the fire. Regaining her senses, Hermione moved to join him. She sat down, pulling her legs underneath her, facing him.

"Do you think that You-Know-Who will…I mean that…," she faltered. She was touched by his intention to fulfill his vow to protect her, but she would rather he work so that that would never become necessary. She wanted him to be on their side. She stared at the flickering flames of the fire and wondered if he could be convinced. Her anger had abated, only to be replaced with a desperation to change his mind.

"Don't think that I don't have a preference for who wins this war," he answered, his hand lightly touching his robes where she knew his arm was imprinted with Voldemort's mark.

"But wouldn't working fully for the Order ensure that we win? Or at least make it more likely?"

"I am not risking my life for nothing. This is in my best interest… and yours as well," he added, turning to look at her.

"There are more important things," she said softly, meeting his gaze.

"Such as?"

"Good triumphing over evil."

"It's not that simple," he said almost sadly.

"Why not?" she asked, scooting closer until she was right next to him, her knees against the side of his leg. He reached out and tugged on one of her curls, wrapping it around one of his fingers. He seemed less hesitant to touch her. He was getting used to her presence, to the idea that they were married, she supposed.

"Sometimes I forget how young you are, how innocent," he remarked, avoiding the question. He moved his hand from her hair to her neck caressing it softly.

"I'm neither of those things," she protested indignantly, "I was fighting Death Eaters before I left school, and I have seen things…things I don't want to think about. That's why we must win this war! But we need you." He paused his attentions to her neck, gripping her by the shoulder.

"That's right; both sides need me and will use me and then discard me when I cease to be of any value. What's wrong in trying to maneuver myself where either that never happens or that when it does I am in a position to gain something from it?" He said bitterly.

"Because there are things that are worth fighting for and worth dying for," she said earnestly.

"Like what?"

"Freedom, equality, love," she listed.

"As a Pureblood male the first two hardly concern me and I've never known the third," he scoffed.

"That's not true!" Hermione protested, "I don't believe you."

"Don't tell me you're going to profess your undying love for me now," he sneered.

She looked away from his penetrating gaze to the fire. No, she couldn't tell him that she loved him because she didn't. She felt concern for his safety. She tolerated his dark moods and the comments aimed to irritate her. She respected his bravery, his intellect, and his ability to brew the most difficult potions, but she didn't love him.

"No, but what about Professor Dumbledore? He treats you like his own son. I don't just mean romantic love," she argued, "He accepted you when you returned, forgave you. That's a kind of love in itself."

"I am merely useful to him. He would have been a fool not to take me back and the information I could give him."

"Why did you return to him? What made you turn spy for either side?" she asked. She, along with Ron and Harry, had invented a hundred different scenarios to explain Dumbledore's trust in Snape. Ron's always included Dumbledore being slipped some sort of confusion potion just prior to meeting with Snape, but Hermione and Harry had a hard time believing a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore would be so easily taken in. There had to be some other reason.

"I used to believe there was no such thing as good and evil, and then something happened that changed my mind," he skated around what she really wanted to know. Hermione decided not to press her luck.

"And now?" she asked instead.

"There are varying degrees of both, and I work to place myself somewhere in the middle."

"And what happens if the fence breaks while you're sitting on it," she said frustrated with his attitude of apathy. He snorted, it was the closest he ever came to laughing.

"That won't happen if I'm careful."

"So what happened exactly to change your mind?" she pressed, her curiosity getting the better of her. He didn't say anything but moved his hand from her shoulder to push a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear, then cupping her face he pulled her to him for a kiss. Startled, she lost her balance, falling into his lap. He snickered but helped her back up before kissing her again. It was a soft, gentle kiss, and it was a few moments before Hermione realized what he was doing.

"You're trying to distract me," she said, pulling away and resting her forehead against his.

"Is it working?"

"Only you could turn a heated argument into snogging in front of the fire," she said as she turned around and settled back into the couch sitting next to him. He wrapped his arm around her.

"I am good aren't I?" he said, all the smugness from before returning.

"If I say yes, will you answer my question?" she asked.

"Perhaps." She got the feeling he was baiting her, but she decided to play along.

"Then yes, you're good," she relented.

"At kissing or manipulating you?"

"Both," she said through clenched teeth, he was starting to irritate her. He sat smirking at her both her answer and her reluctance to admit it.

"So will you answer my question?" she asked again.

"No," he said firmly.

He stood up and headed to the bedroom, leaving her alone on the couch. She sat watching him go and then staring into the fire.

Severus Snape puzzled her even more than when she had first met him. In school she could count on him to be mean and degrading. She knew how to handle him like that. She could ignore the cutting comments or respond with ones of her own. But the chameleon she lived with now was a completely different matter. One moment he was the sneering Snape she was used to, another he was engaging and witty with a sense of humor, while other times he was tender and almost sensitive. She supposed it came from being a spy. He had to be different things to different people; he had to be able to manipulate the situation and the information to suit his cause, whatever that turned out to be. He certainly seemed proficient in handling her. She realized from the very beginning that he had been testing the best methods of controlling her, from his failed attempts at intimidation in the bathroom that first morning to the seduction he had tried on the couch tonight. She would have to be more guarded in the future, and she needed to develop some strategies of her own. Perhaps she would take a lesson from her husband.

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews. I love that some people have described it as quick while others comment on me taking it slow…though I suppose both are fair descriptions. The plot does move along quickly but the relationship between Snape and Hermione is developing slowly and, I hope, naturally.

Nore: Merci beaucoup. J'ai compris plus de francais quand je peux le lire. En parlant est presque impossible maintenant pour moi, mais c'est pourquoi je suis ici en France, pour pratiquer ma francais. J'espere essayer lire votre histoires bientot.


	10. ten

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I'm so glad you liked the last chapter, it's my favorite so far and it was actually the second chapter I wrote, (chapter six was written first and then I filled in the rest randomly...my brain is too disorganzed to write in chronological order!) Although now I'm starting to get a little nervous, apparently I have a lot to live up to. Here are two more chapters to read while I edit the others and work on getting to the ending I have already written.

**Chapter Ten**

Hermione decided that if she were to win any concessions from Severus then she would need more information. So she did what she did best, research. The library contained old yearbooks where she found basic statistics on him, but what she needed was practical information. She needed to talk to someone who knew him better than she did.

"Professor McGonagall, I have a question," she said timidly a week later. McGonagall looked up from her marking and waited for Hermione to continue.

"It's about Severus," she started.

"Hermione, I would advise you to speak to Molly Weasley about such matters," the older woman responded quickly, her face turning a shade of pink Hermione had never seen before.

"Oh no! Nothing like that," Hermione cried, her own face turning red. "I just need advice from someone who knows him."

"What kind of advice?"

Hermione explained how he had tried several methods of manipulating her.

"I'm finding it hard to stay one step ahead of him," she told her.

"Well, he is pretty strong willed. But perhaps if he thinks something is his idea he will be more apt to do it," McGonagall offered. Hermione mulled this over.

'Yes,' she thought, 'that just might work.' The rest of the day she spent distracted trying to come up with a plan.

"Perhaps you should go early," Professor McGonagall said finally after repeating a question three times with no reply.

"Oh, Professor I'm sorry," she cried chastised.

"I understand," the older woman told her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "being married is never easy and even more so I should think considering your husband." She smiled at Hermione and then shooed her from her office.

She returned to the dungeons that night ready to put her plan in action. Waiting until Severus was comfortably settled marking third year papers, she advanced.

"You know I really detest this color green," she said, watching him from the corner of her eyes. He didn't deign to answer.

"I was thinking we could redecorate in here." He looked up at this, the look on his face effectively communicating his opinion on the matter.

"Maybe red and gold," she continued, "or pink. I've always loved the color pink. And maybe some doilies."

"You most certainly will not put doilies anywhere," he sneered, before going back to his papers. She could tell she had irritated him by the increased scratching of his quill. Hermione felt sorry for the students whose papers he was grading at the moment, but she had to do what she had to do.

"Ok, so no doilies. But what about a change of color?" she asked.

"I refuse to live with Gryffindor colors," he said disdainfully, "or pink." She sighed loudly to show her frustration and then sat back quietly and waited.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Blue," he said shortly.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"We could change it to blue."

"Blue," she said, "it's a nice color. But what shade, do you think?"

"Nothing pastel. But perhaps a shade or two lighter than navy. I can talk to the house elves tomorrow about it."

"That sounds like a good idea," she assured him. She thought about insisting that one of them did it themselves instead of the house elves, but she decided against it. The battle was won and she didn't want to ruin it. She would insist that Dobby, who was paid for his work to do it though; she could offer him some new socks as payment for the extra work.

Her satisfaction with the situation diminished, however, as they went to bed.

"Don't think that I don't know what you did tonight," he said as he climbed into bed.

"What?" she asked trying to sound innocent and failing. She never was a very good liar.

"Suggesting pink doilies or Gryffindor colors so that I would be more likely to accept something less extreme…like blue," he said. She couldn't see his face in the dark but she knew that the scowl was there nonetheless.

"But it was your idea to change the color scheme of the rooms to blue," she protested.

"That's what you wanted me to think."

"Does this mean I'm stuck with Slytherin green?" she asked dejectedly.

"No," he replied, "but I know all your tricks. I am a master of manipulation—something you will do well to remember." He rolled over away from her, plumping his pillow and settling in.

"That just means I'm learning from the best," she said softly, not knowing if he heard her.

Hermione returned from class the next day to find their rooms a lovely shade of blue. With a contented sigh, she plopped down on the couch. After months of feeling like a stranger in her own home, she finally felt as though she could be comfortable now that the dark green was replaced with a calming blue. These were no longer his rooms but their rooms. It was purely symbolic but still it remained an important step.

Her introspections, however, were interrupted with the abrupt materialization of Harry's head in the fire.

"Hermione," he shouted in a panic.

"Yes, what it is?" she said startled by his sudden appearance.

"Ron, they've taken Ron!" he exclaimed. Her stomach dropped, her worst fears realized.

"Who?" she asked despite already knowing the answer. Harry was already in pieces but she was determined to remain calm.

"Death eaters…Malfoy, I think….and others too."

"What happened exactly Harry?" she asked.

"We were in Diagon Alley and they just apparated out of nowhere, grabbed him and apparated away. I don't know what to do. I tried to floo Albus but no one seems to know where to find him. And Lupin is away in Wales, and I sent Hedwig to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley but she hasn't come back yet. Hermione what do we do?" he said nearly hyperventilating. She knew that he was thinking of Sirius. He didn't want to repeat history, but neither could he sit and do nothing while his best friend was kidnapped.

"We need to go back to Diagon Alley. There is a spell that can trace where someone has apparated to. Once we figure out where they have taken him we can formulate a plan," she told him. "I'm coming through the floo and then we can go together." He nodded and then moved aside as she stepped into the fireplace.


	11. eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

Together Harry and Hermione apparated to Diagon Alley. Casting the tracing spell, she was able to determine that they had taken Ron somewhere in the north of England.

"Let's go then," Harry said impetuously.

"No, Harry," she told him forcefully, "Not until we have a plan—and certainly not by ourselves. We are going to need help to find him and to get him away."

"We're losing time," he argued.

"I know, I know." Quickly, she tried to devise a plan. He was right, the longer they waited the worse off Ron could be when they found him, if they found him. They could have apparated to one spot and then to another. She didn't know how long the tracing charm would work.

"Listen, we need to get word to the other Order members what has happened and what we are going to do. Run and get an owl, I'll write us a note," she instructed him. He ran off, leaving her to rummage in the pockets of her robe for spare parchment and a quill. She was just finishing the urgent message when Harry returned with a small but quick looking owl.

"What's the plan, Hermione?"

"We'll send word to Fred and George—their shop is close by here isn't it? They can alert the other Order members. We'll go ahead, under the same invisibility spell Mad-Eye Moody uses on you, and scout out the situation. They may have moved on to another location in which case we'll have to use the tracing spell again. Otherwise, we just stay quiet until help arrives. There are only two of us, Harry, we can't take on a gang of Death Eaters alone," she said, emphasizing her last point. He merely nodded. He knew what was at stake.

She tied the letter to the owl's leg and then cast the invisibility charm on both of them.

"Ready?" he asked as he took her hand. She nodded and then they apparated.

The sight that greeted them was one that Hermione would never forget and that would haunt her dreams for years to come. They were standing in an ancient stone circle like many that dotted the English countryside. The sky was tinted an eerie green from the Dark Mark hovering above and below lay her best friend of almost eight years, an empty look of terror on his face—they were too late.

She hardly had time to process the scene before she heard shouts and the sound of curses cutting through the air.

"Someone's followed us!" she heard someone yell.

"Duck!" she whispered urgently to Harry, shoving him to the ground.

They were invisible but the loud crack that came with apparating had alerted the Death Eaters of their presence. Though they couldn't see them, they sent a flurry of hexes and curses in their direction. They needed to apparate out of danger as quickly as possible but before Hermione could whisper this to Harry, he had shoved her off of him and stood up, his own wand drawn. She watched in horror as he gave a guttural yell and charged forward, determined to avenge the death of his friend. She couldn't leave him to face them alone, and so she too quickly got up and started flinging curses in every direction, praying that the other Order members would arrive quickly.

They had the advantage of being invisible but the Death Eaters could determine fairly easily where they were standing by where the different jets of colored lights were coming from; they also outnumbered them. Crisscrossing the small circle, she tried hard to make sure she didn't stay in one place for too long. There appeared to be about six of them, but four of them seemed to be concentrating on where she was standing.

'If they knew it was Harry Potter they were fighting, they wouldn't be so keen on me,' she thought ironically as she hit one with a body-binding curse.

Harry seemed to be doing fine, having already felled one man. Dodging another burst of light she heard two loud cracks sounding the arrival of two more people. She hoped it was help and not more Death Eaters; they couldn't handle much more of this by themselves. Hermione turned to see Tonks and Shacklebolt, and then realizing her mistake too late everything faded to darkness as a hex hit her square in the back.

She awoke in the hospital wing of Hogwarts to see Harry sitting next to her bed. His hair was more disheveled than normal and his glasses sat askew on his face, broken in the battle no doubt.

"Hermione!" he cried, throwing himself at her. He embraced her firmly until she was sure she wouldn't be able to breathe.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice muffled by his chest. Pulling back she saw the tears he was desperately trying to hold back.

"Crabbe Sr. hit you with a pretty nasty hex, but Shacklebolt took care of him. It was over in minutes when more Order members arrived."

"And you're okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said softly. She reached for her wand sitting on the bedside table.

"_Oculus Reparo_," she murmured, pointing her wand at his glasses. They quickly righted themselves and he reached up to touch them.

"I never can remember that one," he said. She smiled weakly at him.

Silence soon descended on them as neither one knew what to say; they were both still in shock over the day's tragedy. It was still too fresh, too painful to discuss even between the two of them. But their thoughts were soon interrupted by the banging of the infirmary doors. Severus strode into the room, his black robes billowing behind him. Coming to the foot of her bed, he surveyed Harry.

"Move," he demanded.

"You're not wanted here Snape," Harry said, standing and pulling out his wand.

"Harry," she pleaded, "give us a moment." He looked back at her surprised but did as she asked.

"I'll be back later," he said more to Snape than to her, the warning clear in his voice. When he was gone, Severus took a seat in the chair by the bed. She had expected his face to soften with Harry's departure but if anything he became more severe as he sat staring at her.

"What the hell were you thinking going after a group of Death Eaters by yourself?!" he roared. She was taken aback—no concern for her safety, no inquiries into her health, just loud accusations. She clenched her fists and it took all of her willpower to keep her wand down.

"I was trying to save my best friend," she answered, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Bloody good it did you. You almost got yourself killed as well." That was it. She had had enough. Raising her wand, she pointed it at his chest.

"_This is your fault_," she whispered dangerously. "_You knew. You knew and you did nothing. Too busy playing your spy games and now Ron is dead. Dead and it's your fault._" He sat there staring, unable to say a word. Abruptly he rose from the chair and slid out of the room. She watched him go and as he passed through the hospital wing doors, she dropped her wand and collapsed back onto the bed in tears.

A/N: I have read several convincing essays that predict Ron will not survive to the end of the series. I suggest reading the editorial _The North Tower_ on mugglenet; the article is entitled "Die Ron Die," as well as John Granger's book _The Hidden Key to Harry Potter_. Sorry about the cliffhanger but you shouldn't have to wait too long.


	12. twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Hermione stayed in the hospital wing for over a month. She might have left earlier except a dark cloud of depression overcame her with such a force that it effectively slowed down her recovery. Sometimes Harry would come and sit with her, talking about Ron.

"Remember that time I beat him in chess," he recollected one sunny afternoon, "that was the only time I ever beat him. He was so angry." Hermione smiled weakly at the memory.

"I think he let you win, Harry," she said softly.

"Really?" he asked incredulously.

"He always was a bad actor." She remembered the incident clearly and how she had been amused when Ron had winked at her when Harry's back was turned.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said, "That sounds like something he would do." His eyes shone with tears but he held them back.

She had no more tears to cry. Every available tear was drained from her, leaving in their wake a gaping hole in her heart. Harry, on the other hand, was handling Ron's death much better than Hermione, funneling his anger and grief into the war effort, while she withered and wilted away in the hospital wing. She sat staring out the window, frustrated that the sun would shine when she felt so dark, so empty.

"I think I would rather be alone." She turned from the window to face her friend.

"Hermione, are you sure?" he asked, the worry evident in his voice. "Ron wouldn't have wanted to see you like this, y'know."

Hermione didn't think Ron would have wanted to see her at all had he known the part she had played in his death—too busy worrying about how to convince Severus to change the color scheme of their living room instead of informing the Order about plans to kidnap him and working to prevent it. Ironic really, when she thought about how much the two men had despised each other. She had been caught in the middle and unwittingly she had made a decision between her best friend and her husband—a choice she severely regretted now.

Consequently, Severus had not returned after her whispered accusations and that suited her just fine. She blamed him equally for what had happened and she could not be held responsible for what she said or did to him if she were to see him again. Unfortunately she could not escape herself so easily.

"Please go Harry," she pleaded. He rose from his chair by her bed, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the crown of her head.

"I'll come back tomorrow and check on you," he assured her. She merely nodded and turned back to the window.

A few days later Madame Pomfrey announced that she was well enough to go home. Hermione felt uncertain, her heart in turmoil. Where was home? She couldn't go back to the dungeons but at the same time she couldn't bear the thought of retuning to Grimmauld Place where she was certain to be bombarded with unwanted sympathy and worry. And returning to her parent's home in the muggle world was simply out of the question—it was too dangerous. She wanted to be left alone to wallow in her own self-pity. Wandering around the Hogwart's grounds, she contemplated her current situation, hardly noticing the biting wind or the frost that sparkled from every tree branch and blade of grass. She was sitting on her favorite bench overlooking the lake when Professor Dumbledore came upon her.

"Miss Granger, may I join you?" he asked.

"It's Mrs. Snape," she said automatically after months of correcting people. "And I would rather be alone." He sat down next to her anyway.

"I often find the times that we most ardently wish to be alone are the times when we most need someone to talk to," he told her. She didn't respond but stared out at the icy lake. Perhaps if she didn't say anything he would get the hint and leave. But he didn't. He stayed on the bench next to her—patiently waiting.

"_It's my fault he's dead_," she whispered finally, afraid to speak the words aloud.

"That's not true," he stated simply.

"Yes it is," she said vehemently, turning towards him. "I overheard Malfoy telling Severus that they had a plan to kidnap Ron and I was too worried about playing wife to tell anyone or to do anything to prevent it."

"How do you know that you could have prevented it? This world is too unpredictable for us to dwell too long on what ifs, Hermione. What if Severus had told us sooner about the plans to take him? What if Mundugus hadn't slipped into the Leaky Cauldron for a drink when he was supposed to be guarding Harry? What if Ron hadn't insisted on going to Diagon Alley that day, or even, what if he had never befriended Harry Potter in the first place?"

She sat pondering his words.

"Severus told you?" she asked softly a few moments later.

"Yes, two days later."

"But…I accused him of not telling you…he never said," she faltered, searching for words. She took a deep breath and then began again. "I accused him of not telling you. I blamed him for Ron's death and he never said anything. He just yelled at me, saying I was stupid to go looking for him in the first place."

"Though shouting at you probably wasn't the best idea, I'm certain he did it out of concern for your safety. He loves you, my dear girl, and he hardly realizes it. He doesn't know how to handle such feelings. And I suspect you are growing to love him as well," he said smiling and patting her hand.

"How can I love him when I have just spent the last month hating him?"

"I think perhaps you don't hate him so much as you need someone else to blame."

She considered his words carefully. Two tears she thought she didn't have made silent tracks down her face. But these weren't tears for Ron; they were tears for Severus and the tenuous relationship she had effectively destroyed with her angry words.

"I can't go back now," she said sadly.

"Yes you can, and you must. He needs you and you need him. Together you can work to make Ron Weasley's sacrifice significant. Don't let him have died in vain, Hermione."

She looked over at the headmaster. His eyes weren't twinkling like they usually did and when she thought about it she was impressed that they ever did. He must have seen so much tragedy, so much death in the first war and now in this one. How did he do it, she wondered.

"By pressing forward and remembering that those we love never truly leave us," he told her. She jumped slightly, startled to realize that he had answered her unspoken question. He was nearly omniscient at times; it was eerie but comforting as well. She knew what he said was true. She needed to start healing; she needed to fight for Ron; and she needed to reconcile with Severus.

Dumbledore stood and held out his arm. She rose to accept it, following him across the grounds and inside.

"Professor, there's something you should know," she said as they mounted the steps to the castle.

"Yes," he said, pausing.

"Severus isn't wholly loyal to the Order. He's playing both sides hoping to take advantage of his position with whoever wins in the end," she said quickly, her face flushing at the confidence she had betrayed. But it was important. Dumbledore deserved to know.

"I suspected as much. He never has believed that my forgiveness for his previous crimes is offered freely. Perhaps you will be the one to convince him, my dear." He gave her hand a small squeeze.

She nodded as they continued on. He escorted her to the dungeons, knocking at the garden painting to their rooms. Severus opened it, staring at Hermione, surprised to see her.

"I found her half-frozen outside. Take care of her Severus," Dumbledore said gravely, handing her to him. He simply nodded as she stepped into his arms.


	13. thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

Severus led her to the couch in front of the blazing fire. Taking a blanket, he wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Isn't a warming charm one of the first things they teach you in school?" he asked sarcastically before moving away and leaving the room. She responded with the chattering of her teeth. She hadn't realized just how cold she was until she had come inside, her limbs starting to thaw painfully as she sat in front of the fire.

"Here have some tea," he said returning with a steaming mug. She took the cup in her hands and sipped it carefully. He sat on the end of the couch, facing her direction.

"So you're back," he said harshly. She nodded.

"I must say that I'm surprised."

She turned to look at him, taking a deep breath. This was going to be harder than she ever thought possible.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"For what?" he scoffed.

"For saying what I did, for hating you. For not trusting you enough to come to you for help…I'm sorry. Dumbledore told me today that you told him about Malfoy's plan." There she had said it. She sat waiting for his response, her eyes searching his face for some clue to how her weak apology was received, but his face remained a mystery to her. He didn't say anything but gazed into his own teacup.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because what you said was true. I rather assumed this farce of a marriage would end with you hating me, how much the better that it was a righteous hatred rather than over something trivial like the color scheme of the rooms or sharing the bathroom."

"It isn't true. You did more than I did; I told no one what I heard," she said bitterly, the bile rising in her throat at her own self-loathing. He moved closer to her, until they were side by side.

"It is not your fault," he told her forcefully.

"So people keep telling me," she laughed sullenly. Turning to meet his gaze, she smiled weakly. "I don't hate you…not anymore. I think I hate myself…hated…myself more in the end anyway."

"Actually I had thought that, you, like your annoying friends, hated me before all of this," he said motioning his hand at the two of them. "I was quite surprised to read the letter from the Ministry accepting my proposal. You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Surprising me," he told her, reaching out and lightly touching her hair. He wrapped a brown curl around one of his fingers. Her eyes glistened at his tenderness; it was so much more than she had anticipated. Truth be told she had expected acrimonious accusations flung at her in much the same manner she had hurled them at him. This quiet acceptance of her back into his life affected her and she cursed herself for allowing the tears to escape.

He cupped her face with his hand, brushing away the tears with his thumb. She leaned into his touch and then closed her eyes as he pulled her closer still, kissing her. He pulled back slightly, but Hermione clung to him and kissed him again, this time more fervently. She had denied herself any comfort for over a month and she found herself hungry for his touch, for his kisses—his hands moving over her, from her hair to her hips, exploring her curves while his tongue delved into her mouth. They separated finally, his forehead resting against hers.

"I have papers to mark," he told her regretfully.

"Of course."

Getting up, he went to his desk and retrieved his papers. She stared into the fire, realizing that kissing her had not gained him anything this time. If anything he should have shouted and screamed at her, pushing her away so that he could maintain the quiet solitude her month's convalescence had brought him. Perhaps Dumbledore was right. Perhaps he did love her.

"Just when I thought I was rid of you," he sneered as he returned to the couch, his marking in hand, "you're back again making noise when I'm trying to work and hogging the bathroom." She grinned and looked over at him just in time to see his regular scowl replaced with a small smile. It lasted only a moment and had he not kissed her passionately just minutes before she might have decided that she had been seeing things. He was still a sarcastic bastard but he was her sarcastic bastard and the man she was starting to love.


	14. fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

The funny thing about loving someone Hermione discovered was that it was something that one had to consciously do every day. With some people that was easy, but if there was one word that described Severus Snape it was not easy. Difficult was a more apt word. Obstinate, cantankerous, sometimes petulant, and often irritable were other descriptions that came to her mind. Her first night back had been wonderful; the first time she had felt something other than desolation since Ron's death. But if she thought that things were going to be easy after that she was sorely mistaken.

"Where have you been this late?" he demanded of her one night as she returned from a nasty encounter with some young Death Eater wannabes. They had been muggle baiting and she had been asked to help sort out things and invent a story that would be plausible to muggle authorities, but not before one of them had punched her in the nose.

"I shouldn't have to remind you that I am no longer one of your students," she said angrily, "and I was away making sure that your _friends_ didn't kill any more muggles."

"At this time of night?"

"At whatever time it's needed," she spat, irritated by his tone. It had been a long day and she was not in the mood to be interrogated. "I'm fighting this war too and I will not be grilled every time I return home a little late."

She didn't wait for his answer but stormed into the bedroom. The dull ache in her head from being hit had suddenly developed into a sharp throbbing. Taking a double dose of pain-relief potion she retreated to bed.

He didn't apologize the next morning but then Hermione wasn't sure if he even knew the words "I'm sorry." A week later, however, when she returned from Order business she found a glass of firewhiskey waiting for her. A small smile touched her lips at the gesture. She didn't like firewhiskey but it was the thought that counted and she appreciated his attempts. She downed the contents of the glass, ignoring the burning in her throat and her watering eyes. Creeping into the bedroom, she tried not to wake Severus, but as she climbed into bed he stirred.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Just two more people dead for no other reason than that they were muggles," she answered, her voice cracking with emotion. Once again she had had to invent an explanation to tell the police and the poor people's family. It drained her and she harbored an unreasonable fear that the next time it would be her own family despite the special measures that had been taken for them.

He didn't say anything but wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder. She calmed down after a few minutes.

"Thank you," she sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Your sniveling has mussed my shirt," was his only response. She chuckled softly and reached for her wand, drying his nightshirt with a quick wave. Settling down in the bed next to him, she feared sleep wouldn't come easily. Images of the night coupled with the recurring dream about Ron haunted her. But the firewhiskey combined with Severus lightly stroking her arm helped to lull her into a deep, if not peaceful, sleep.

The next night they both attended yet another Order meeting. The war seemed to progressively consume her life every day. She hardly had time for her apprenticeship anymore, always traveling around helping to move targeted families to safety or trying to protect helpless muggles. Professor McGonagall understood, of course, as she was often busy with the same things, as well as her regular classes at Hogwarts.

But Hermione longed for the day when life would go back to normal—whatever normal turned out to be, though she imagined it would involve her teaching at Hogwarts during the school year and conducting research in the summers, sitting on the couch and discussing Potions with Severus, and laughing with Harry again, all the hopes and dreams that had been pushed to the side because of this war.

"Is that everything?" Dumbledore asked, addressing the group in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione hoped so. It had been another long meeting.

"I have something to add," Harry said, standing. She sensed Severus tensing beside her and she laid a hand on his arm to calm him. He hated having to listen to Harry.

"I've been having dreams again," Harry admitted to the group.

"That wouldn't be a problem if he would bloody learn Occlumency, the arrogant twit!" Severus snarled under his breath.

"Ssshhh," Hermione quieted him.

"…discussed the importance of blocking your mind," she heard Dumbledore finish telling her friend.

"I know, I know," he assured them, "But since Ron's death it's been harder to control my emotions. Besides this time I learned something important."

"What's that?" Bill Weasley asked from the back of the room.

"He suspects Snape."

The room fell silent as every member registered the significance of that simple statement. Hermione grasped for Severus' hand but he brushed her away, standing up abruptly.

"How do you know that Potter?" he asked angrily.

"I saw him talking to Wormtail about your loyalty. He promised him a large reward if he could bring him evidence of your defection."

"There is no evidence," Severus said smugly.

"Wormtail wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't have something," Harry retorted. The rest of the group just sat staring and watching the argument before them unfold.

"Then I will have to do something to prove myself a faithful servant," he said silkily, "Perhaps I could offer _you_ to the Dark Lord. You are anxious for the final battle, to at last prove yourself against him, aren't you?"

Harry's fists clenched at his sides and his face turned a dark shade of red. Hermione could see it was taking everything in him to control his anger. Several years later and he still barely could control his fierce temper—especially when it came to Snape.

"That's enough," Dumbledore said sharply and with authority. The two men looked over at him. Harry looked chastised but Severus continued glaring.

"It's late, but we'll mull this over until our next meeting two days from now," Dumbledore continued, dismissing them. The room dissolved into the noise of chairs being put away and casual conversation. Hermione rose quickly to follow Severus as he stalked out of the room, but Harry caught her first.

"I'm not lying, Hermione," he told her.

"I know, I know," she assured him. She believed him but Severus was a different matter. This wasn't the first time he had allowed his prejudices regarding Harry to cloud his better judgment. As an accomplished Occlumens he was able to rigidly control his emotions, but for all his training and practice, his discipline broke down whenever he was faced with a Potter.

"You have to convince him," Harry pleaded with her, "I won't have anymore blood on my hands, no more deaths on my conscience if I can help it, Hermione—even Snape's."

"I will," she said as she rushed from the room, "I will."

She left the kitchen, hoping that Severus was waiting in the foyer for her, but he wasn't there. Opening the door to the outside, she realized with chagrin that he had left without her. The painting of Mrs. Black began wailing at the noise she had made in her hurry. Running out the door, she left the wild ranting about mudbloods and traitors for Harry and the others to worry about.

She arrived back at Hogwarts to find Severus sitting in his armchair, drinking his firewhiskey and staring into the fire.

"You can't go back," she said, standing behind the couch regarding him, "If he…"

"Don't presume to tell me what I can and cannot do," he said sharply, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"But if what Harry said is right then you are in danger," she protested.

"Potter is an arrogant ass who no doubt is jealous of the important role I play in the Order while he stays at home playing children's games," he said, derision dripping from his voice. His knuckled whitened as he increased his grip on his glass and his black hair hung lankly in his face. Hermione had only ever seen him so angry once before—when he had confronted Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack in her third year.

"Is that what you think?" she asked angrily, her eyes flashing dangerously, "Trying to protect innocent muggles and wizarding families from attack are children's games? You want to know what I think? I think you're angry because the moment you've been dreading has finally arrived. You can no longer be useful to either side; your spy games are over and you've gained nothing in their ending. And that terrifies you."

His eyes narrowed with every word she spoke. Standing up from his chair, he threw the whiskey in his hand into the fire. Glass shattered everywhere and the flames exploded as the alcohol hit them. Hermione took a step back in shock.

"This does not concern you," he snarled threateningly, pronouncing each word slowly.

"Of course it does," she said vehemently, "I'm your wife." They stood there staring at each other a few moments more, both waiting for the other to make a move, to dare speak another angry word. Finally Hermione turned and silently went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Sitting on the bed, angry tears made their way down her face. This was an impossible situation. If he returned to Voldemort then he took the chance of being discovered as a spy and in consequence he faced certain death. But if he was cautious then he would become useless to the Order, being forced to stay in hiding like Sirius had. He could handle it; he wasn't reckless like Sirius, but when she thought it over she understood why he was so frustrated and angry. He had long ago given up on people accepting him because they liked him; his demeanor towards most illustrated that. But, she thought, he gained begrudging approval because he was useful and that was about to be taken from him as well.


	15. fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

With Hermione shut away in the bedroom, Severus slept on the couch that night. Neither one spoke to the other the next morning but things began to thaw at dinner when he asked her to pass him the salt and commented on the shepherd's pie. He slept in their bed the next night and by morning all things appeared to be forgiven, though hardly forgotten.

The subject of his spying activities came up at the next meeting but nothing was resolved in Hermione's mind. They merely decided that Severus should decide if the risk was worth taking the next time he was summoned.

"Don't play the hero, Severus," Arthur Weasley told him.

"That's right, that's Harry's job," she joked, "And then who will save him?" Harry didn't look too amused but Severus smirked and she felt it was worth it, although she would be sure to apologize to Harry after the meeting.

"Besides we would miss seeing your smiling face around here," Minerva added ironically. Severus had responded by merely stating that he would take the matter under consideration, but she knew in her heart that he had already decided to keep gathering information and it frightened her. She tried not to think about it too much, simply hoping that he wouldn't be summoned anytime soon.

A few days later they sat engaged in a discussion about a Potions article he had read her, but as their debate had slowly died down, she pounced on the opportunity to change the topic.

"Karkaroff left," she stated simply.

She had been doing that recently, trying to slip in arguments about why he should stop spying into the lulls in conversation. He refused to discuss the matter outright but she was determined to have her say, so she tried to catch him off-guard, hoping he would be more inclined to talk that way. So far her efforts had been fruitless.

"Karkaroff was a coward," he said derisively, "not to mention he's now dead."

"Yes, but…" He fixed her with a stare that communicated his unwillingness to continue the conversation. She knew if she pushed further, he would leave the room exasperated or start cursing her. He had already done so several times. She decided she needed a new tactic.

The next Friday she sat at her desk poring over her latest book when he came up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. It was late, but with Order business and her apprenticeship, she found herself behind in her reading—something she was determined to remedy.

"Still endeavoring to be an insufferable know it all, I see," he said disparagingly.

"Better that than an overgrown bat," she countered, leaning back to look up at him, her head resting at his waist.

"Troublemaker," he growled.

"Greasy git."

"Stupid girl"

"Sarcastic bastard," she said smugly, "and how is it that I am a know it all and a stupid girl at the same time?" He ignored her observation, a sign that Hermione took to mean that she had won their little game.

"Come to bed, its past midnight," he said instead.

"Its no use, I can't sleep," she told him as she went back to her book. She had had trouble sleeping ever since Harry had made his report to the Order. Severus dropped his hands from her shoulders to move her mass of hair to one side, allowing him access to her neck.

"_Who said anything about sleeping_," he whispered silkily, his breath caressing her ear. She gasped in surprise and then sighed with pleasure as he began pressing soft kisses along her neck and down along her collarbone. She let him take her hand and pull her up from her chair.

"Well I won't be able to concentrate on my work now," she told him disdainfully.

"That was rather the point," he said, leading her into the bedroom.

As he closed the door to their room and turned towards her, nervous energy suddenly welled up in her as she recognized that the glint in his eyes was desire.

"I've never…I don't know…I mean to say that I know, I've read things but that…," she stammered.

"Sshhh," he said, placing a finger at her lips, "You're not going to be graded Hermione."

Laughing nervously, she let him tangle one hand in her hair and place his other on her hip, pulling her slowly towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent his head down to kiss her. She had kissed him before, but neither one had let it progress this far before and it wasn't long before she was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt while he led her to the bed.

Later in life she would look back and remember the night as having been perfect, but in the moment Hermione felt quite awkward and nervous. But Severus was gentle and she found herself delighting in his touch as his hands and mouth traveled over her body. And then he was inside of her; it was both painful and exhilarating at the same time as she moved to meet him.

"_Open your eyes_," he whispered. She did, looking into the inky depths of his black eyes.

"_Leglimens_," she heard him murmur. Where before he had attacked her mind with a ferocity coming from paranoia, now he gently sought her out, his mind softly touching hers. Previously there had been images but this time she merely felt emotions and a vague sense of what they were connected to—an intense loneliness, bitterness for being rejected, regret for ever joining Voldemort, relief and disbelief at being accepted back by Dumbledore, deep-rooted anger, and love. She concentrated on the last one, willing her mind to search it out. She saw concern for her safety after Ron's death; a desperate desire to protect her; affection for the way she nibbled her toast and wiggled her toes in bed; respect for her intellect; gratitude for how she accepted him even in his worst moods, amusement at her quick wit and how easily she could be riled up, and a calm that only her presence brought—all the things he never said because he had never been taught how.

He ventured into her own mind, finding the feelings of self-doubt and an eagerness to prove herself when she first found out she was a witch, sadness at Ron's death and loathing for having done nothing to prevent it, irritation with him when he baited her, happiness for the times spent with her family, Harry and Ron, the Weasleys, and with him, and a blossoming love.

For a few brief moments they were one in mind and in body; his pain and happiness were hers, her triumphs and fears were his. Clutching him closer to her, she didn't know where she stopped and where he began.

When it was over, she nestled next to him, burying her face in his chest and murmuring how he was wonderful before falling asleep. She awoke late the next morning to see him stretching his arms above him before settling them back down around her.

"What did we do?" he asked, obviously doubting the wisdom of the previous night, even though it had been his idea.

"Nothing no other married couple hasn't done on occasion," she replied sleepily, her head resting on his chest.

"I rather thought that once you got married, you stopped having sex," he remarked dryly.

"The Weasleys are evidence to the contrary," she said, yawning. He smirked at that. Pulling herself up, she leaned on one elbow and looked down at him.

"I don't regret it you know," she told him.

"Don't regret what?"

"Marrying you."

"Really? I'll have to work harder on that. I thought for sure I would have driven you away by now," he said, teasing her.

"Gryffindors don't scare that easily," she said, throwing her shoulders back and puffing out her chest.

"I recall Mr. Longbottom being absolutely terrified of me," he retorted.

"Well, you don't scare me." He growled and grabbed her, pushing her back down on the bed and kissing her roughly.

"Still don't think I'm frightening?" he taunted, lifting his head and gazing into her eyes.

"No," she said softly, "I think you're brave, intelligent, and honorable."

"Go on," he prompted her, smiling. He was smiling. She had never seen him really smiling before. He smirked; he scowled; sometimes he snorted in amusement but more often in derision. She beamed back at him, lifting a hand to push back a strand of his hair. He would never be a handsome man—his nose was too large, his teeth too yellow, but she discovered that she found him attractive nonetheless and she wondered when that had happened.

"Well, you're also difficult, stingy…"

"Stop!" he told her, placing a finger on her lips.

"What about me?" she asked, nipping at his fingertip. He slowly moved his finger, drawing a line from her mouth along her face and down to her collarbone.

"You," he said quietly, "are the best thing to have happened to me." He leaned down to kiss her again.

"Don't go," she murmured in between his kisses.

"What?" he asked abruptly, sitting up. She sat up beside him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Don't go back to You-Know-Who," she pleaded even as he stiffened in her embrace.

"I don't want to discuss this Hermione," he said sharply. He pulled himself from her arms and reached for his robe.

"Please Severus, I think that we should…," she started.

"No!" He stood up, tied his robe closed, and left the room. She sat back on the bed, watching him go. Slamming her fists against the pillow, she cursed herself for ruining the tender moment. He had opened up to her truly for the first time and at her two words she had watched as he erected the tall walls around him again. She was angry with herself and angry at him. He refused to consider her feelings in this matter. She couldn't understand how he could tell her that she was the best thing that had happened to him and then in the next minute be willing to throw his life away in an attempt to feel useful. Didn't he understand that he was important to her? She resolved to make sure that he understood; she would convince him because she loved him and because his life depended on it.


	16. sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

Winter passed into spring, and as the snow melted and the first few shoots of green appeared Hermione wondered at the fact that it had been over a month and Severus still had not been summoned. He maintained his correspondence with his contacts like Malfoy and Nott, but Voldemort hadn't required his presence recently.

She was sitting grading some first year essays for Professor McGonagall one evening when Severus stormed into their apartment, slamming the painting behind him. She looked up to see him pacing back and forth in front of his desk.

"What's wrong," she asked timidly.

"I just received an owl from Malfoy. He wants to meet me and Pettigrew tomorrow night," he said angrily, throwing the letter on the desk.

"And?"

"They know. _He_ knows, Hermione," he hissed. She stood and went to him, taking his hand and leading him to the couch.

"Sit down. I'll make some tea," she said in an attempt to calm him.

"Contrary to popular belief, tea is not a magical cure all," he spat.

"Fine, firewhiskey then," she snapped back, summoning the bottle and a glass and pouring him a drink. He downed it quickly, grimacing at the strong liquor.

"How can you be sure they know?" she asked. She wanted nothing more than for him to never return to Voldemort, as a loyal Death Eater or spy, but her damned curiosity won out again as she asked the one question he had used as his one weapon against her many arguments, and to great effect at that.

"I can think of no reason why Malfoy would want to meet with me and Pettigrew. Besides there was a certain tone to the letter that after years of knowing him indicates that something is amiss. It makes sense with what Potter said," he said bitterly. She could see that admitting that Harry had been right pained him outright, the look on his face when he had spoken the words made it evident.

"I always thought that if I were to be killed I would be important enough to warrant the attention of the Dark Lord himself," he went on. She stood staring at him in disbelief.

"This is why you're upset?" she asked incredulously. "You should be thankful that he is sending those two. We can handle Malfoy and Wormtail much easier than we could Voldemort himself."

"Don't say his name," he snapped.

"Why not?" she asked indignantly, putting her hands on her hips and looking down at him, "He's not your master anymore. He can't be, not now."

He glared at her dangerously but didn't stop her when she flooed the headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore, we have some urgent business to discuss," she said through the green flames.

"Of course, child, come on through. I just had some tea and biscuits sent up." She glanced back at Severus and he reluctantly joined her in the fireplace.

They had spent many hours, going through every possible scenario and meeting with several more Order members before finally settling on a plan. Severus would meet with Malfoy and Pettigrew but would be followed by Kingsley, Moody, and Tonks. At the slightest hint of danger the three aurors were to burst out. Four against two were good odds. Though Moody seemed to think it would be three against three, even he couldn't pass up the chance to capture two Death Eaters.

"I want to be there as well," Hermione had insisted to a unanimous refusal.

"It has to be aurors, that way it will look less suspicious," Severus had told her, "I've been hinting in the last several months that Dumbledore has suspected me so being followed by aurors won't seem odd. I might even be able to retain my position as a spy with Malfoy and Pettigrew gone and no longer feeding the Dark Lord doubts about me."

She had looked around the room but found only nodding heads; no one to sympathize with her case, which in the end even she admitted was weak.

"I'm worried," she admitted to him as they returned to their rooms. He didn't respond but she thought she heard him softly say, "Me too," as he turned from her to go into their bedroom.

Worry and nervous energy plagued her and she needed a potion to sleep that night. She found herself unable to focus on anything for more than a few minutes the next day as well.

"I'm sorry," she apologized to Professor McGonagall after the older woman had asked her the same question four times.

"I know you're worried dear," Minerva told her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's so odd," she confessed, "It hasn't been that long really and I can't imagine life without him. Or rather I can, but I don't like the thought of it."

"I'm proud of you," Minerva answered, "He's a difficult man to love." Hermione felt a surge of indignation at that statement.

"Professor!" she exclaimed, fully intent on expressing her ire at the older woman's unfair assumption. But Minerva held her hand up to stop her.

"I don't mean that he's unlovable, Hermione," she assured her, "He has lots of good qualities. I just meant that he doesn't let many people get close. You're the only one other than Albus that has gotten past the walls he builds around himself."

"And I only get glimpses from time to time."

"Well that's more than the rest of us. We care about him, we really do, but it's so hard to show it when you're constantly being cut down by one of his caustic remarks. I think most of us are too impatient or too thin-skinned to put a dent in his defenses—our own fault really," she said sadly.

"There were some of us who were taken aback when you decided to marry Severus, but I think Molly was right; you have been good for him," she continued as she shuffled her third year marking.

"He's been good for me too," Hermione murmured turning her attention back to her work.

She spent the rest of the day restless with worry and things only got worse as she sat waiting for him to come home. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally stumbled through the door.

"Oh thank God," she cried, throwing herself at him.

"Get off me, wench," he snapped, but she couldn't help but notice that he held her tightly for a few moments before letting go.

"Everything went according to plan?" she asked. He merely nodded as he took of his cloak. She noticed that his robes were torn and appeared to be scorched. Apparently there had been some sort of scuffle tonight.

"You're hurt," she exclaimed.

"I'm fine," he assured her.

"I'll be the judge of that," she told him imperiously, "Let's have a look."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're awfully bossy," he told her snidely as she took his hand and led him to the bathroom.

"Yes, now sit down and take off your shirt," she instructed him. He had a cut across his chest but it wasn't very deep and with a few waves of her wand it stitched itself back together.

"I'll put some ointment on it but you still might have a scar."

"I'll just add it to my collection," he said sarcastically.

Taking the ointment from the medicine cabinet, she gently massaged it into the newly healed wound. When she was finished she traced the scars that lined his chest. She had noticed them before but had never inspected them closely.

"Are they from You Know Who?" she asked timidly. Wherever they were from they looked like they had been painful.

"Some of them."

"This one?" she asked, placing her hand on a jagged line that spanned his right shoulder and down his side.

"Black," he replied bitterly.

"Sirius Black?" she said astonished.

"Potter and his friends were not the saints that people remember them to be," he said through clenched teeth.

"I…I didn't know," she stammered. She was shocked to learn that Sirius had inflicted so much pain on Severus. She could hear it in his voice and she had the visible proof before her. Of course when she thought about it, the few times she had seen the two men interact the hatred had been palpable. She had underestimated Severus by assuming that Sirius had good cause to dislike him; because didn't everyone dislike Snape? She wondered what had started the rivalry that had ended in years of pain and scorn.

"Not many people do," he said sharply. She removed her hand, leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the scar.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"At least I have the sick satisfaction of not only outliving them but knowing that they were betrayed by one of their so called friends."

"Severus!" she exclaimed, standing back up quickly and looking at him. He merely shrugged. She was appalled at his callous indifference. Surely he couldn't mean that, but when she looked at him, she thought perhaps he really did.

"What about the satisfaction of proving them wrong?" she tempted him.

"What are you gibbering about?"

"Work to finish what they started. Accomplish what they could not. Just because they accused you of being a Dark wizard, of being a greasy git, or whatever else they called you in school does not mean that was the person you were destined to become. Prove them wrong."

"It's a noble ideal, but it loses its appeal in that they will never know," he noted sardonically.

"You would be doing it more for yourself than for them," she argued, "but if you really crave someone's face to rub it in, there's always Remus. And Harry would be dumbfounded to see you fighting valiantly for our side." He reached out for her hand, pulling her down into his lap.

"An intriguing idea," he mumbled as he kissed her. Hermione knew that he was trying to distract her; that he didn't want to discuss these things. Normally she would have been upset that he refused to listen or to talk to her. But after her worrisome day she needed the distraction and she didn't protest as he led her to the bedroom for a little more diversion.

A/N: Thanks for all your wonderful reviews. I do, however, have a question for anyone who is willing to answer it. I have had several people mention beta readers, some saying I must have a great one to someone else mentioning that I need one. The truth is I don't have one since I am so new to fan fiction. Up until now I've been too embarrassed to admit that I really don't understand them. I gather that they help out with grammar and spelling but where do I find one and logistically how do things work?


	17. seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

Hermione awoke the next morning hoping to feel better about the situation, but found that worries still plagued her.

"What exactly happened last night?" she asked Severus as he dressed. He glared at her in response; he hated talking in the morning and he especially hated answering her many questions. But she knew that she would never get any work done today if she didn't know what had happened. She needed to hear that everything was going to be okay.

"You might as well tell me now. You know I won't rest until I get an answer," she said as she pulled on her own robes. He glared at her for a couple moments more before finally giving in.

"As I said last night, everything went according to plan," he said with a scowl. "Malfoy and Pettigrew are currently enjoying the hospitality of the aurors at Azkaban and I will return to the Dark Lord when he calls me."

"But how can you be sure that You-Know-Who doesn't suspect you?" she asked. She understood the value of the information that he provided but it wasn't worth his life in her opinion.

"Oh, he suspects me. But with no direct evidence he won't do anything because I'm the only one who can give him what he wants," he explained.

"Which is?"

"Potter."

"But…surely not….," she stammered.

"Not until he is ready—which should be soon. When the time comes I will tell the Dark Lord how to get past our defenses and I will inform the Order what they can expect from the Death Eaters."

"The consummate spy," she remarked.

"Exactly," he said before leaving in a billow of black robes.

Over the next few weeks it seemed he was right. Things had calmed down and Severus had not been summoned again.

"It's merely the calm before the storm," he told her one night. But it didn't stop Hermione from worrying. Her stomach turned to knots whenever she thought about it and she was grateful for the distraction that her apprenticeship and Order work gave her. She had lost Ron; she couldn't bear the thought of losing Severus as well and so she tried not to dwell on it.

Nevertheless, Hermione felt a sense of relief as the end of the term neared. She had been so busy that she had been neglecting food, sleep, and her husband. They rarely saw each other but for a few moments in the morning and as they prepared for bed. More than once she longed for the day when things would return to normal and she wondered if she would enjoy being married when the backdrop of this war was removed. It was with these thoughts in her head that she drifted off to sleep one night only to be awoken in the middle of the night to Severus shaking her.

"Hmm, what is it?" she asked half-asleep.

"Why did you marry me?" he asked, "why not one of the Weasleys or someone else off that bloody long list of yours? Why me?"

"Its 4:00 in the morning," she protested sleepily.

"I want to know why you chose me?" he insisted.

"You woke me up from a perfectly good sleep, something that's rare for me these days, so I could stroke your ego?"

"Fine, never mind," he said indignantly, turning over and plumping his pillow. She watched him for a few moments, deciding whether or not to go back to sleep or to answer his question. In the end she decided to answer the question.

"No, wait," she said, sitting up and placing her hand on his shoulder, "there were lots of reasons."

"Such as?" He turned back towards her

"Well…strategically it was a smart move for both of us. You could improve your standing with You Know Who and possibly provide the Order with more information while protecting me from the Malfoys, Crabbes, and Notts that were on that list. Logistically, it was better for me to be here at Hogwarts since Professor McGonagall offered me an apprenticeship. And finally, I respected and trusted you. I still do, even more now."

"Alright then," he said yawning and closing his eyes.

"Is that it? That's all?" she asked, still a little irritated to have been woken up.

"Yes, now leave me alone, its 4:00 in the bloody morning."

She stared at him in disbelief as he turned over and went back to sleep. She lay back down annoyed and in wonder at his sheer audacity and nerve. She awoke the next morning still wondering about his strange behavior the night before and her curiosity finally got the better of her.

"So why did you say yes?" she asked him during dinner the next day.

"What?"

"Why did you say yes? Why did you marry me?" she repeated.

"I don't want to discuss this here," he said quietly but sharply.

"Well, I didn't really feel like answering your question at 4:00 this morning but I did because I am a loving and caring wife."

"Are you implying that I'm not?" he asked pointedly.

"A loving and caring wife? No, you're my irritable, tetchy, though sometimes affectionate husband who woke me up in the middle of the night last night because he had a burning question to be answered but now refuses to answer mine, despite the reasonable hour."

"I would hardly call dinner time, where anyone can overhear us a reasonable hour," he protested.

"Well, its better than 4:00," she retorted.

"Not now," he whispered sharply.

"I would be careful if I were you, Hermione," Dumbledore commented from his space at the center of the table, "Severus has a mischievous look about him today."

She suppressed a smile while Severus glared at the old man. He turned to scowl at her as if to imply that the headmaster had made his point for him. She decided to wait until they were back in their rooms and Severus was settled in for the night in front of the fire before she tried again.

"Now?" she asked, leaning over the back of the couch and encircling him with her arms.

"Now what?" he asked grumpily, but he didn't shake loose from her embrace so she continued.

"Now will you answer my question?"

"Which was…?" he stalled. He knew perfectly well which question she meant, but he liked to annoy her. Hermione refused to be baited.

"I hope the couch is comfortable," she threatened, "because you're going to be spending a lot more time on it in the near future." She started to walk away but he grabbed her arm.

"Oh, _that_ question," he said as she walked around and sat on the arm of the sofa.

"Yes, that question."

"The answer to that question is easy, the same as yours really," he said nonchalantly.

"That's it!" she exclaimed, "You couldn't say _that_ in the Great Hall. You were afraid that someone might overhear you saying 'ditto Hermione'."

He shrugged his shoulders, "I value my privacy."

"So you're saying that you married me because strategically it was the right move and because you respected and trusted me?" she asked.

"That, and what middle-aged, mean, and ugly man doesn't want a young trophy wife," he added sarcastically, pulling her from the arm of the couch down into his lap.

"Is that what I am to you? A trophy?"

"You certainly brighten a room," he said, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling her neck. She smiled widely at the compliment, a rare thing coming from him. Her irritation began to melt away, replaced with affection.

"Although a trophy might be nicer. It would be quiet so that I can get my marking done," he said.

She stopped smiling. He could never just say something nice; he always had to ruin it with his sarcasm. But it was no less than she expected and in the end she decided he wouldn't be Severus without it. Said in a certain tone, it was his idea of affectionate banter. But what she wanted to hear him say was that he loved her, that he needed and wanted her with him. Looking at his smirking face, however, she knew that those words would be a long time coming.

"If that's what you'd rather be doing," she replied before leaning in to kiss him.

"I'm open to other suggestions," he said dryly a few moments later.

"No," she said, scooting out of his lap and down to the other end of the couch, "You have exams to mark and I have reading to catch up on. I'd hate to distract you more than I already have." She smiled slyly at him before taking up her book. She really did have quite a bit of reading for Minerva that she had been neglecting the last several days.

"Later perhaps."

"Perhaps," she said noncommittally. They sat on the couch each working on their own things for the rest of the evening, him on the end and she sprawled out with her feet near his lap. He had tried discreetly to tickle her feet with his quill a few times until she had kicked him, at which point he had made another comment about her being a nuisance.

"I think I deserve a trophy for having to put up with you," he told her wryly.

"I'll write to the Minster of Magic straight away and ask him to work on it," she countered.

"Be sure to tell him to make it a big one."

She chuckled and smiled before turning her attention back to her book. But she found herself unable to concentrate on her reading. His question the night before had made her think. Why had she married him? Mainly because the ministry had forced her hand but whatever the reason, she had hardly expected this—it was almost domestic bliss sitting here on the couch after a long day, flirting with her husband.

She looked up quickly when he gasped and grabbed for his arm. Dropping her book to the side, she tried to remain calm.

"Don't wait up," he told her before going to grab his cloak. He always told her that but she never listened. She would be waiting when he returned.


	18. eighteen

A big thanks to AMRA for beta reading this chapter for me!

**Chapter Eighteen**

He returned very late that night. Hermione imagined that the candles would have been nearly burnt down to the wick, except that they were magical of course. She had tried everything to keep her mind from worrying, but even her books could not console her.

Coming through the painting, he did not take off his cloak, but grabbed hers and pushed it into her hands.

"We have to go, _now_," he ordered.

"But what happened?"

"I'll explain later, but now we need to get to headquarters," he told her, ushering her into the fireplace. They flooed to 12 Grimmauld Place to find Bill Weasley, asleep in a chair in the kitchen.

"You're supposed to be on guard, not sleeping," Severus snapped at him.

"Sorry," Bill replied sleepily. "What's going on?"

"We need to call an emergency meeting, can you handle that?"

"Yes, but it will take some time," Bill said more alert.

"How much time?" Severus asked sharply.

"An hour."

"We'll wait in the library," he said, taking Hermione's hand and leading her from the room. They climbed the stairs to the library; Bill's voice floated up from the kitchen, as he flooed the various Order members.

Once in the library, Hermione waited until he had taken off his cloak and sat down in one of the wide leather chairs before she asked him what had happened.

"The Dark Lord informed us tonight that he plans on attacking Hogwarts within the week," he told her grimly.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"What will we do?"

"We discussed this as a possibility long before now. The Headmaster will send the students home," he explained. "I instructed the Dark Lord how to get past the ancient charms and spells that guard the front gates. Potter is as ready as he will ever be. It will all be over soon."

She stared into the fire. The nightmare that had been their lives for the last few years would finally be decided in a few days. It would either be like waking from a terrible dream or a descent into an even worse one. She tried not to contemplate a future where Harry did not succeed in his task.

"What yet needs to be done?" she asked.

"Not much," he answered. "For my part, I will merely sit back and await the final outcome."

"So you still claim loyalty to either side?"

"I am loyal to myself," he stated simply. She nodded sadly.

"You could stay with me," he offered. "There is no need for you to risk your life."

"You know I can't do that. Harry is my friend. I will not abandon him when he needs me the most. And I will not sit back and let the same men who killed Ron Weasley, in cold blood, win this battle. That is not the world I want to live in, Severus."

"Where is it you want to live, then?" he asked derisively. "In a land where everyone loves everyone else—all hearts and flowers? This isn't a fairy tale, Hermione. You don't always get a happy ending."

"You're right," she said. "You don't always get a happy ending, but you'll never get one if you don't at least try."

"You're a fool, an idealist fool." He stood up from his chair and scowled down at her.

"Why? Because I'm willing to fight for the things I believe in, for the people I love and who love me?"

"Do they love you? How can you be sure that they just don't keep you around because you are useful? What do you really have in common with Potter anyway? He just needed you to finish his homework and invent creative excuses for when you were caught breaking the rules," he said bitterly.

She regarded him sadly. He had had so few friends in his life that he hardly recognized true friendship when it was offered. Dumbledore had told her that he didn't believe his offer of forgiveness and she began to be amazed that he accepted her in his life at all.

"Harry loves me; they all do…Professor Lupin, the Weasleys, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. And they love you too, if only you would let them," she pleaded.

"They tolerate me because I am useful to them, nothing more…nothing less."

"If that's what you believe then we have all failed you," she said sadly, a single tear making its way down her face.

She wished to tell him that she loved him, that she needed, no, wanted him by her side for the rest of her life; but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. In her insecurity, she had erected her own walls —hers were made of books and an encyclopedia of knowledge, while his consisted of sarcasm and perfectly aimed caustic comments. She couldn't face rejection from him, not like that.

"Hermione?" Harry stuck his head into the library.

"Oh," he said, disappointed to see her with Snape. "The meeting is starting."

"Just give me a moment Harry," she asked. His timing could not have been worse and his tone, when he had realized that she was with Snape, only seemed to solidify Severus's supposition that he was merely useful. Harry smiled wanly at her and shut the door.

"So, you'll go? You'll fight for their silly dream?" Severus asked snidely, motioning his hand toward the door Harry had just closed. She nodded her head, then reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"_I'm fighting for you as well…for us_," she whispered before turning to go, but he stopped her.

"I can protect you," he said, grasping her shoulders, "no matter the outcome."

"You can, but will you?" she countered. "What if being married to me compromises your safety in this new world order that You-Know-Who wants to create. I am after all both muggleborn and best friend to Harry Potter." He looked at her stunned. Silently, she reached up and kissed him softly on the lips, and then turned and left the room.

He was the master of manipulation, not her. She had tried everything to change his mind; she had appealed to his vanity, his intense dislike of James Potter, and to his instincts. She had tried to slip her opinion into lulls in the conversation and intimate moments when he was less guarded, but in the end, she had failed. She had failed him in every way that was important.

Slowly, she made her way down to the kitchen for the meeting. Severus joined them minutes later, making his report, and then sitting down. He sat on the far side of the room, facing away from Hermione.

Since they had married, they had always sat together, at first merely because they had arrived together but Hermione liked to think that lately it was more because he liked having her close. She knew that she liked sitting with him. Order meetings could often be tedious affairs and it was nice to have Severus by her side, occasionally whispering his opinions in her ear.

She forced herself to pay attention to the arrangements that were being made. The term was over in two days and it was decided that it would be safer to keep the students at Hogwarts, sending them home on the train like usual, rather than tip their hand to Voldemort. Hermione was to help McGonagall and Tonks in bolstering the protection charms around the four Common rooms. It may be the end of the year, but the students would not be enjoying the warm weather or their new-found freedom from classes. Instead, they would be locked in their dorms until it was time to go home or until the danger passed. The other Order members would move in; the Death Eaters would find an army of aurors and others waiting for them.

As Severus had said, it would all be over soon.

A/N: I know it's another evil cliff hanger but we're nearing the end and the tension is building towards the climax. With that in mind, I'm sorry to say I won't be able to update for at least two weeks because I'm getting ready to go on vacation, (I'm sorry for you, not for me...I'll be having fun in the south of Spain.) Don't forget to review. It would be wonderful to come home and find my inbox overflowing!


	19. nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

The waiting had begun. Everything and everyone was ready and now there was nothing to do but wait for the end. Hermione sat on her favorite bench overlooking the lake with Harry one afternoon, soaking in the sun and the quiet.

"It's strange being back at Hogwart's isn't it?" Harry asked.

"Not really," she replied, "I never really left."

"I guess you're right."

"It is odd to be here with you without Ron, though, she said. Harry nodded, looking away. Hermione suddenly regretted bringing it up. It was still hard to think that one of her best friends was gone forever.

"Remember that time we threw you in the lake?" he asked, turning back to her a few moments later and smiling.

"How could I forget? I never want to see the giant squid that up close and personal ever again."

"It was Ron's idea, he always had good ideas."

Hermione didn't agree. Most of the time, Ron's ideas had resulted in Gryffindor losing points and the three of them ending up in detention or, for example, her ending up in the lake.

"I miss him," she said instead. Most, after all, were good memories.

"Me too. Want me to throw you in for old time sakes?" Harry asked slyly, reaching for her arm.

"Not unless you want to be hexed into next Tuesday. If you remember the only reason you succeeded last time was because you managed to separate me from my wand beforehand," she protested, shaking him off and reaching into her pocket. Harry held his hands up, conceding defeat.

"Alright, alright, maybe next time," he laughed, "How does Snape handle you?"

"Very effectively actually," she said dryly. He stared at her for a moment, almost as if she were a difficult arithmancy problem.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. He took her hands in his.

"For what?"

"That you had to marry that git," he said, "You deserve better." She wrenched her hands from his grip.

"Don't say that!"

"Are you happy, Hermione?" he asked, regarding her seriously.

"I…I think so," she stammered.

"You think so?"

"Well, its hard to be sure with this war going on," she said indignantly. "Sometimes I wonder what it will be like when it is all over and I'm still married. Right now, we hardly see each other—we're both so busy, him with teaching and spying and me with my apprenticeship and work for the Order. But when we are together, it's nice, most of the time, anyway. I don't know. It's confusing. He's confusing. Sometimes he plays the affectionate and attentive husband and other times he acts like a stranger."

"But you were arguing the other night when I came into the library, weren't you?" he asked.

"It was more like a disagreement. We don't see things the same way," she explained.

It was true enough. No voices had been raised and there had even been minimal sarcasm, a true feat when talking with her husband. But certain things had been decided, even if Hermione wasn't exactly sure what those things were. And Severus had been avoiding her the last several days, speaking only when it was absolutely necessary.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked.

She looked over at him. He had a pained look on his face and she could tell that it had taken everything in him to ask her that question. Discussing her marriage to the hated Potions professor didn't rank high on his list of favorite conversation topics.

"He doesn't believe that anyone could like or love him. That the only reason anyone keeps him around is because he is useful," she told him.

"I thought that was the only reason," Harry said derisively.

"Stop! Honestly when are the two of you going to start acting like adults towards each other?"

"He started it," he said, sounding very much like a child who had been chastised.

"Very mature Harry," she snapped, but he flashed a mischievous smile at her that melted her irritation. Both men could make her smile, she only wished they would get along. They sat quietly for a few minutes, both watching the giant squid swim in the lake and pondering things.

"Oh god!" Hermione exclaimed, breaking the silence.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Severus…he asked me why I married him. And I told him…I told him that it was because logistically it was better, that it was a strategic move."

"So?"

"Don't you see? I told him that the reason I married him was because he was useful, that it suited my purposes. And then before the meeting, I…," she trailed off. He had been testing her feelings for him, she was certain. He didn't trust anyone, except maybe her and Dumbledore, and she had ruined it. She had ruined everything.

"I'll see you later," she told Harry before she hurried across the grounds and back to the castle. Their entire marriage had been spent with both of them trying, if not to manipulate, then to influence the other in a certain direction. There had been few moments of honesty or real communication. She needed to find Severus and tell him everything, to set things right.

He wasn't in his office, his classroom, or in their apartment. She wandered through the castle, stopping and asking the ghosts and paintings if they had seen Professor Snape, but following their directions had only resulted in her getting lost. Standing in a quiet hallway, she heard a clatter in a nearby classroom. She took her wand from her pocket and entered cautiously. Everyone in the castle had been on tenterhooks lately, and every little noise startled her.

'It's probably nothing,' she thought as she walked through the rows of desks to the front of the room. It appeared to be empty. She laughed quietly at her paranoia and turned to leave, her eyes coming to rest on the first desk. Sometimes she wished she could go back to the days when she was a student, when the worst thing she had to worry about was whether Snape would test them on both antidotes and shrinking solutions. But even then, she realized they were worried about Voldemort, the Basilisk, or escaped convicts. She seemed doomed to lead an exciting life.

"_Expelliarmus_," she heard a voice say as her wand flew from her hand. Hermione froze.

"Ah, it's Mrs. Snape—Severus' mudblood wife."

She looked up to find herself cut off from the door, the way blocked by Bellatrix Lestrange who stood casually twirling Hermione's wand in her hand. She must have been hiding behind the open door when Hermione had come in.

"I've been dying to meet you, truly meet you. We've run into each other occasionally but there's never been anytime to chat."

Hermione looked at the woman standing across from her in disbelief. No time to chat? They had only met once in the Ministry of Magic in her fifth year and later in another skirmish outside of London. Hermione had heard rumors that Bellatrix was mad and now she believed them.

"We'll have to wait a little longer, I'm afraid," Hermione answered her, hoping that her voice did not betray her fear of being caught without her wand, "I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Not without this, you aren't," she said, waving Hermione's wand. Hermione just shrugged. She was right; there was nothing she could do with Bellatrix holding her wand and blocking the only exit.

"Let's talk about Severus, shall we? Tell me, do you love him?"

"Of course I do," Hermione replied without thought. She knew that she did but she had never admitted it aloud to anyone before and it saddened her to think that she had told Bellatrix Lestrange before she had told Severus.

"_Crucio_!" Bellatrix said without warning, pointing Hermione's own wand at her. She fell to the floor, clawing at her face and hair in a vain attempt to stop the pain. Harry had tried to explain what it felt like to her once and she had watched in her fourth year as Barty Crouch had tortured the spiders using the curse, but nothing had prepared her for the complete and total torture of it. It lasted only a minute and then Bellatrix released her.

She struggled to breathe; her skin prickled painfully with the after effects of the curse.

"You truly love him? Come now, you can tell me the truth. This isn't a Ministry inquiry."

Hermione didn't speak, but she shook her head in affirmation.

"_Crucio!_"

She fell back to the floor in agony. Mere minutes felt like an eternity and she let out a small whimper as the curse was lifted again.

"Do you love him?" Bellatrix demanded.

"Yes," she said faintly, "He is intelligent, brave, and witty. He's a great man, an honorable man."

"Fool! You know he only uses you for the information you can give him. How does it feel to know that every secret whispered in confidence, every careless comment, or the slightest piece of information about your precious Potter was brought back to the Dark Lord? You have been your own downfall," Bellatrix taunted her mercilessly.

"And you will be yours if you're not careful," a deep voice said. Hermione glanced up to see Severus standing in the doorway.

"Why, Severus," Bellatrix simpered, "Your wife and I were just having a bit of a chat. Won't you join us?"

Severus scowled as he pushed past her and made his way to Hermione who was still on the floor. He leaned down and helped her back up to her knees. Brushing back her hair, he cupped her face; his hands cool and soothing on her hot skin.

"Are you ok?" he asked softly. She nodded weakly.

"There's no need to pretend now, Severus dear," Bellatrix said, "After the Dark Lord defeats Potter there will be no need for you to carry on this sham."

"It's no act," Severus said vehemently, standing and facing her.

"I know. She really loves you. Can you believe that?" she said, disdain and disbelief evident in her voice. "You're much better at this spy thing than I would ever give you credit for, Severus. But the time for that is over now. Won't you join me in a little fun?" She lifted her wand again, causing Hermione to flinch.

"No!" Severus said, the authority in his voice reflecting his many years as a teacher, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Hermione's wand flew from Bellatrix's hand, her eyes widening in surprise at this sudden betrayal. Hermione caught it in her hand.

"_Stupefy!_" she yelled, pointing the wand at her tormenter before she could reach for her own. The red bolt of light hit Bellatrix square in the chest, throwing her back several feet before she landed in a heap between the rows of desks. Still on her knees, Hermione heaved a large sigh but kept her hand tightly on the wand. It was still too early to relax. Looking up at Severus, she grabbed for his hand. He looked down at her with an expression on his face that she had never seen before.

"Hermione, I….," he started to say but then faltered. She knew that he was searching for the right words, words that he hadn't often used, if ever, before. She smiled slightly, but then closed her eyes as even that small movement prickled from where she had been cursed.

"Thank you," she said, interrupting his struggle. She didn't know if they would ever tell each other in words how they felt, but suddenly it wasn't important to her. He had proven that he loved her by being with her now.

"You're welcome," he replied, seemingly in relief to be spared the duty of expressing his emotions.

Suddenly Remus and Harry appeared in the doorway.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed.

"We were getting worried when you didn't come to dinner. Are you alright?" Remus asked, stepping into the room.

"I am now," she replied, pointing at the still body of Bellatrix Lestrange on the floor between the rows of desks.

"And you, Severus?" Remus asked, looking to Snape. He nodded curtly and reached his other hand down to help Hermione to her feet.

"This is it, isn't it?" Harry asked quietly, still staring at the body on the floor.

"Indeed it is, Mr. Potter," Severus said snidely, "Isn't this what you've been waiting for?"

"No…I mean…yes," Harry stammered. "Thank you," he said finally, his green eyes more serious than Hermione had ever seen them.

"Nothing I do is for you, Potter," Severus answered sharply.

"I've never asked for anything from you, Snape," Harry retorted.

"Stop!" Hermione exclaimed. The three men turned and looked at her.

"She's right," Harry said after a moment.

"We haven't time for your naïve attempts at reconciliation," Severus said. Harry looked daggers at him and Hermione pulled at his hand.

"We have a battle to fight," he finished.


	20. twenty

A/N: The last chapter caused some confusion that I'm currently working to fix. But for now I will explain. Bellatrix took Hermione's wand and then used it against her. When Snape yelled Expelliarmius it was Hermione's wand that flew out of Bellatrix's hand and because she was kneeling next to him and because it was her wand Hermione was able to catch it. She yelled Stupefy before Bellatrix could reach for her own wand. I hope that helps!

**Chapter Twenty**

Hermione had been involved in many skirmishes with Death Eaters over the last several years, but never had she experienced the full onslaught that was the final battle. They had left the deserted classroom after making sure that Bellatrix was tied up and locked in a closet. Severus didn't let go of her hand as they briskly walked through the halls, their wands poised and ready to meet anything that might come around the next corner.

Approaching the Great Hall, they heard the shouts and cries of the battle that had already started. They reached the small hallway that separated the Great Hall from the main castle door. Outside Hermione could see giants battling each other, using whole trees from the Forbidden Forest as weapons. Some were on their side, but she had a sneaking suspicion that they needed little reason to fight. Trolls battled with goblins; and she could even see house elves performing their special magic, in an attempt to protect the castle. Turning her head to the Great Hall, she saw that most of the human combatants had moved inside, away from the more primal magic that was occurring outside.

She squeezed Severus' hand one last time and then let go, raising her wand and sending a curse into the back of a Death Eater attacking Tonks. Bolts of multi-colored light flashed through the room, and Hermione watched in horror as a blaze of green light hit Professor Flitwick.

Harry had been right… this was it. Hermione swung into action, the months and years of training for this moment overtaking her.

"We have to get to Voldemort," Harry told her, pointing to a tall, skeletal man in the middle of the room. She nodded, looking around for Severus. He lurked on the edge of the room, inconspicuously aiming his wand and hitting fellow death eaters. He was the spy until the end, she thought, as she watched him pretend to help Crabbe but instead felling his companion. It was a clever strategy, taking out the enemy while they aimed their wands at everyone but him.

the battle soon took her attention away from her husband. She shot curses in every direction, many hitting death eaters, when a sudden chill knocked her off her feet. Every terrifying memory she ever had overtook her, blurring her vision. She had a vague sense that she had been hit with a hex, but it seemed nothing compared to the despair of reliving Ron's death, the fear for her life and her parents', and the intense agony that had been the Cruciatus curse.

With all of her being, she tried to push those thoughts away, clinging instead to a happy memory.

"You are the best thing to have happened to me," she heard Severus tell her.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" She felt the chill lift, but realized that many more Dementors hovered close by. They weakened the Order's ability to fight.

"Harry!" she yelled. They needed a strong Patronus charm, something more than she would be able to conjure. He pointed his wand at the center of the group and she watched as a beautiful silver stag galloped through the Great Hall, forcing the dementors back through the door. Hermione waved her wand and the door slammed shut, trapping them in the corridor where they couldn't distract anyone.

Turning around, she watched as a masked Death Eater aimed his wand at Dumbledore's back. Severus, seeing the words of the killing curse forming on his lips, abandoned his wand and threw himself full force at the man. His wand sparked, but it emitted no flash of green; however, the scuffle distracted the Headmaster. Turning around to see Severus fighting hand to hand with his would be assailant, he didn't see the purple flash that hit him in the side.

Hermione gasped as she saw him fall. If Dumbledore was gone, what hope did they truly have? He had been the one wizard Voldemort ever feared.

"Traitor!" she heard the fallen Death Eater cry, before Severus punched him in the nose; but, the threat around her drew her attention away. She had always been able to do more than one thing at a time, but this onslaught was almost too much to handle. She stayed as close to Harry as she could, guarding his back, as he waded through the crowd of combatants towards where Lord Voldemort stood.

"Are you ready to face me alone? Like your father did, like a man?" he taunted. "I suppose the old fool has told you that you are courageous, but I don't see what's so brave in hiding behind women and old men, Potter. Look at you; even now, you have a girl by your side to protect you. It's pitiful."

"It ends here, Riddle," Harry said.

"It certainly will." His voice was no more than a raspy whisper, but Hermione had never heard anything so chilling before in her life. His red slit eyes were just as she remembered them from Severus' memories.

"_Expulsez!_" Voldemort yelled and waved his wand. Every Order member and teacher's wand flew from their hands and hovered above them, just out of reach. The room fell quiet with stunned silence and helplessness. With another wave of his wand, they all rushed out a neighboring window. They were unarmed and at Voldemort's mercy.

"Don't kill them!" he yelled to his followers. "I want them to watch as their last hope dies before them. I want them to acknowledge me as the greatest wizard of all time; and if they won't, then they can die a slow and lingering death."

Remus lay dead in the corner, having finally joined his boyhood friends. Professor McGonagall tended to a prone Dumbledore, who looked as though today would be the last of his 150 and some odd years. Other Order members, including Severus, stood along the wall, Death Eaters' wands trained on them. Hermione's leg twitched, from where she had been hexed before, and she could hear the battle still raging on outside the castle.

"Do you like my new spell, Potter? Very handy, a broad version of the Expellarmius. Of course I couldn't leave my Death Eaters without their wands, so they have all had theirs charmed to resist the spell."

That meant that Severus still had his wand, she thought desperately.

"Potter!"

Harry turned and caught the wand that Snape threw him.

"_Arvadek Adava!_" he yelled, pointing the wand at Voldemort. A bright blue light burst forth, from not only from the wand, but from Harry's eyes. He seemed to be bathed in it. The light swirled out from around him and rushed towards Voldemort. He tried to block it, but it barreled through the magical shield he conjured. There was a terrible cry, like that of a banshee, as the spell hit him.

She covered her ears with her hands and watched, as Lord Voldemort, the terror of the Wizarding World, seemed to unravel before her. Small threads unwound and tore away, leaving at first a skeleton and then nothing at all. So caught up in the drama of his undoing, Hermione didn't notice that all around her Death Eaters were collapsing, grabbing at their arms in agony.

When he at last disappeared, Harry fell to his knees, Snape's wand dropping from his hand.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, rushing to his side.

"It's over," he gasped.

"Your scar," she exclaimed. "It's gone!" He reached up with one hand and felt his forehead.

"It's never hurt like that before," he said. "I thought I might die from the pain, but I knew I had to hold on, that if I could just wait a few moments more it would all be over."

"What was that spell you used?" she asked.

"Something Dumbledore and I came across when we were planning strategies. It's Avada Kedavra but in the reverse. The spells and enchantments he used to gain power, to stave off death, had to be unwound bit by bit with 'backward mutterings of dissevering power' according to the ancient manuscript we found," he explained.

"But how did you know saying the spell backwards would work?"

"I didn't," he said, shaking slightly. "I just hoped it would." He smiled and grabbed her to him in a tight hug.

Letting her go, she helped him to his feet and they turned to survey the room around them. Most of the other Order members were working to subdue the Death Eaters, some who lay still writhing on the floor in pain, and others who had fallen unconscious. Fawkes flew in, and Minerva worked to apply his healing tears to the Headmaster. Large sections of stone littered the floor, and looking up she could see the sun peeking through the ruined ceiling—it was no enchantment this time.

Despite the bustle of activity all around them, Hermione focused only on finding Severus. Their victory today had been possible because of him. Harry's wand might not have worked against Voldemort's. She found him, not among the others, but lying on the floor. He was unconscious, his hand still gripping his marked arm.

"Is he dead?" she asked Madame Pomfrey and Tonks, who were kneeling beside him. Her voice cracked and her hands trembled as she barely restrained her hysteria.

"No, dear," Madame Pomfrey told her. "But he's in a bad way. We need to move him to the infirmary as soon as possible."

Hermione nodded and helped Tonks levitate him up the stairs and into a bed. While the rest of the Wizarding world celebrated, she stayed by his bed, hoping for a miracle.

She sat by his bed a week later, when Professor Dumbledore approached her.

"How is he doing child?" he asked.

"The same as before. It's good to see you back on your feet, sir."

"Thank you, but I think I'm done with fighting dark wizards. I'm afraid I'm getting too old for this," he said, sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the bed. Severus lay between them, tucked firmly into bed. His pale skin almost matched the crisp linens and his black hair lay behind his ears, where Hermione had tucked it.

"Can I ask you a question, sir?" she asked shakily, betraying her emotions.

"Certainly."

"What happened that day? Severus fought valiantly for our side. He doesn't deserve this," she said indignantly.

"Love saved the day, Hermione, and it will again," he reassured her. "The love that prompted Lily Potter's sacrifice, that fateful day seventeen years ago, invoked an ancient magic that has protected Harry ever since; and he was able to finally harness that power and use it against Tom Riddle. The one thing Voldemort never understood was love; he was constantly underestimating it. Don't fall prey to the same thinking."

"But will it be enough this time? Does he even know?" she gestured at Severus.

"What did I tell you before you married?"

"That love is more than an emotion…that it comprises all the little things we do to show the other person we care," she said.

"Then he knows. I have hope that if he has held on this long, then he will wake up before long."

"Why do you say that?"

"He's never had so much to live for before now," he answered simply.

A/N: The idea of saying the spell backwards comes from the opening to CS Lewis' _The Great Divorce_. The quote from the "ancient manuscript" are in fact Lewis' words.

Thanks for all the reviews and support, and to AMRA1 who looked over this for me.


	21. twentyone

A/N: Thanks to my great beta AMRA1 for looking over this. After twenty-one chapters I'm too burnt out to read and catch all the mistakes.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

His eyes opened slowly and she could see that it took him a moment to register where he was.

"What happened?" Severus asked, his voice raspy from disuse.

"When Voldemort disappeared, anyone with a Dark Mark was affected severely. Some were driven insane by the pain, while others, like you, fell into a deep coma. But Madame Pomfrey assures me you'll be fine sooner rather than later," Hermione told him, reaching out to take his hand in hers. She had hardly left his bedside in the last two weeks, refusing to leave despite the cajoling of Harry and others.

"We won," he said incredulously. She liked how he said 'we'.

"Yes, we won." Unbidden, tears began streaming down her face. She hadn't realized until now, how truly worried she had been. If he had died, so too would have a part of her heart. She felt as though she had been holding her breath the last two weeks and now that he was awake, her pent up emotion tumbled forth.

"Why are you crying?" he demanded. She shook her hand, dismissing the question and quickly wiped her eyes.

"I'm not crying," she said. He ignored her obvious lie, trying unsteadily to sit up instead. She stood, took his arm and tried to help him.

"Why aren't you off celebrating then?" he asked her bitterly, pulling his arm from her grasp. Hermione smiled and sat back down, leaving him to settle himself; he always was grumpy when he first woke up. She would have been worried if he had responded in any other way; it was a sign that he would be alright.

"Because I wanted to wait and celebrate with you."

Madame Pomfrey had told her that he might not make it; if he didn't wake up soon, then he might never wake up. Hermione had hardly slept, too afraid that he might slip away sometime in the night. She didn't care if the Voldemort was gone or if the Wizarding world was safe, she wouldn't have anything to celebrate if Severus was gone.

"What is today? How long have I been here," he asked harshly.

"You've been here two weeks; it's the fourth," she answered. He looked at her with a puzzled look on his face.

"That date means something."

"It's our wedding anniversary," she said, nodding. He didn't say anything, but sat contemplating her words.

"You know they say that the first year of marriage is the hardest," she told him. He snorted.

"They don't get more difficult than this year," he said ironically.

"I'd say if we can survive a Ministry marriage law, espionage, a Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, then we can survive anything."

"Even each other?" he asked. She chuckled and placed one hand over his.

"I can survive even you, you grump."

"Know-it-all," he retorted, turning his hand to grasp hers. She gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"Here," she said reaching into her bag, "I did go down to the Great Hall long enough to get you some cake." She pulled out a small piece of chocolate cake, smiling as she saw him eyeing it ravenously.

"I am hungry," he admitted.

"And we have lots to celebrate," she added. He was just taking his first bite, when Madame Pomfrey came out of her office.

"I thought I heard voices," she said cheerfully, but her smile faded when she saw what he was eating.

"Severus Snape! You are not to be eating cake…and chocolate cake at that! You are restricted to fluids only for the next twenty-fours at least," she exclaimed, plucking the plate away from him. "And I suppose you're the one that gave it to him…really, Hermione, I expected better from you." With a wave of her wand she banished the contraband cake to the wastebasket.

Hermione managed to look chagrined, but Severus' expression was a mixture of both disappointment and frustration at having lost his treat. Ignoring the glares and evil looks he kept shooting her way, the mediwitch bustled around, waving her wand with diagnostic spells. He resisted the inevitable poking and prodding, treating Pomfrey to a slew of insults. But she was apparently accustomed to unruly and uncouth patients, and after ten minutes she declared that, with the proper rest and combination of potions, he would be fine and finally left the two alone again.

"Is she gone?" Hermione asked, peering around to make sure they were quite alone.

"I bloody well hope so," Severus grumbled.

"Good," she said, rustling around in her bag again, "I thought something like that might happen." She pulled out two more pieces of cake, both much bigger than the last one had been.

"So the first one was a…"

"Decoy. Yup," she said nodding her head.

"I love you," he said minutes later, his mouth full of cake. "That was brilliant, absolutely brilliant."

She grinned at him, while inside her heart almost burst. He had said 'I love you'. Maybe it was because he had just woken up or perhaps because he was happy just to be alive and to be eating chocolate cake, but he had finally said the words neither one of them had ventured yet to say. The meaning was implied in their actions towards one another, but the words hadn't been spoken until now. Like the ancient city of Jericho, she had circled his walls, occasionally glimpsing the man within, but today, with three little words she knew that they had finally fallen—for her at least. Maybe now that she had broken in, he would make room for others as well.

"I love you too," she said.

And together they ate their cake.

_Love is patient, love is kind…Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

* * *

_

A/N: Thanks for your encouragment and reviews, especially those who have been there since the beginning. I never imagined my first effort would be received as well as this has been. If you are interested my inspiration sprang from several sources: the editorials at mugglenet and Redhen. com, _The Hidden Keyto Harry Potter_ by John Granger, _The Great Divorce_ and _Mere Christianity_ by CS Lewis, and the many other marriage law fics out there, (what can I say, I have a degree in History, I was taught to research and then to write.) This is, by the way, the end.


	22. epilogue

A/N: This has been sitting on my computer for awhile, but I have finally decided to post it. It's short, but I hope you enjoy it. It brings the story full circle in regards to the comments Dumbldore makes in chapter one. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

**Epilogue**

"Don't go," Severus entreated, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back to the bed.

"I have to," Hermione argued, struggling to sit back up.

"It's dreadfully cold out there. Let me warm you up," he said, trying to cover her body with his.

"I'm sure I'll survive," she said, half laughing, half gasping for breath. "It's just now September."

"McGonagall won't notice if you're a little late or you could floo and tell her you're sick. I'm sure she could spare you for the day," he said, trying unsuccessfully to pin her to the mattress. She stilled and looked at him with feigned disdain. He used the moment to trap her arms slightly above her head, his thumbs tracing small circles on the inside of her wrists.

"Are you implying, Severus Snape, that I'm not important?"

"No," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "I'm explicitly emphasizing that you are _more_ important to _me_." He released her arms and kissed her again. She moved them to around his neck, her fingers scratching lightly at the base of his skull.

"Is that so?" she murmured as his mouth moved from her lips along her jaw line and up to the shell of her ear.

"Yes, and I'm more than a little hurt that you would rather spend the morning with snotty first years who can't transfigure a thimble to save their lives," he said. The deep tone and feel of his breath on her ear sent shivers down Hermione's spine.

"It's the first day of the term," she protested as he turned his attention to her collarbone. "Just because you've retired from teaching doesn't mean the rest of us can skive off. Don't you have a book to write? Something like _My Life as a Spy _or _00Sevie_?"

"What have I said about calling me that?" he growled, lifting his head and attempting to stare her down.

"Why do you think I keep doing it?" she said flippantly, pulling him down for another kiss. After a few moments, she summoned her strength and pushed him away.

"Really, I'm going to be late if I don't hurry up."

He huffed and lay back on the bed, letting her up. She smiled at his combination scowl and pout and started dressing.

"Dumbledore was right," she said disdainfully twenty minutes later.

"About what?" he murmured into her neck. He had pouted for mere minutes before trying once more to persuade her back into bed. She was finding it difficult to button her robes with his arms wrapped around her waist and his head buried in her hair. She surrendered for a moment, rubbing her hands down his arms before clasping her hands in his. She turned in his embrace, looking at him.

"He told me that with love came passion, but it wouldn't last forever."

"A pity," he said, moving his hands to the buttons she had just fastened. She swatted him away.

"He said it would be tiring. We would never get anything done and he's right. For every button I get done this morning you unfasten two more. It took me ten minutes just to get my stockings on." She grabbed at the hands that had moved back to the front of her robes and reached up to kiss him.

"He's an old coot, most of what he says you should disregard."

"I'll tell him you said that," she threatened playfully.

"Please do. I remind him on a weekly basis, but it won't hurt to hear it coming from you as well," he said with a smirk. She smiled up at him.

"I love you," she said more seriously than before.

"I know," he answered, smirking.

"I have to go," she said.

"If you must." She turned to leave, but paused at the door.

"But, Severus," she said looking back at him.

"Yes?"

"I do have a break this morning at 10."

"I love you," he said with a smirk.

"I know," she said, smiling as she headed to class.


End file.
